Line of Sight
by SeptimaBode
Summary: Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord...or did he? (originally posted on AO3), EWE
1. 1 - The Narrator

The Narrator

* * *

 _April 1998_

 _The ominous clouds hanging low in the sky gave the indication of a dark and perhaps even stormy night. The air was heavy with tension, but the silence, the silence was quite terrifying. The heavy branches of impressive trees swung low in a breeze that was barely perceptible. Perhaps they were influenced by the portentous magic quivering in the distance._

 _Tom Marvolo Riddle paced the length of Malfoy Manor, which was quite impressive considering its size. His thin white lips were tightly compressed as he attempted to process the happenings in his absence. His long bony fingers twirled the smooth wood of his wand, as he contemplated the proper punishments._

 _Lord Voldemort, as he referred to himself, was cognizant of harsh whispers, which pleased him greatly. He thrived off the fear of others, for only with fear could he maintain power. Power was addictive, and if he had ever been accused of love, it would be for the love of power._

" _I told you not to call him."_

 _Ah yes, Voldemort was quite familiar with the sound of Lucius Malfoy's insipid whining. He had judged the wizard poorly. Despite his best efforts, Lucius allowed pesky emotions to cloud his judgement. He allowed a bit of revolting affection and love, interfere with being beside the Greatest Wizard to Ever Live._

" _Shut up you fools."_

 _He was pleased, as pleased as he was capable, upon hearing Bellatrix Lestrange reprimand the sallow Malfoy. She was his favourite pet. Her devotion to him would have been titillating if he had been a different sort of wizard. Bellatrix was a vapid witch, who thirsted for violence and blood, which warmed his cold, nearly non-existent heart._

 _Voldemort toyed with her, the way he toyed with most people. He knew the easiest way to maintain her excitability was to reward her, and reward her he did. Bellatrix was pleased with so little, nearly begging on her knees for his scraps, just the way it should be._

 _However, the Malfoys were his biggest issue. Yes, he had commandeered their ancestral home, yet it had not secured their loyalty. It was a shame really, but for the moment, their fear of him kept them in line._

 _There was something incredibly empowering when it came to entering a room filled with loyal Death Eaters. Voldemort nearly preened, but it was beneath him. His long dark robes billowed out behind him, and the mutterings ceased as his shiny black shoes clipped across the black marble floor._

 _Bellatrix Lestrange was quick to cross the Malfoy Drawing Room and nearly slid across the floor on her knees, in her haste to serve him. The Dark Lord did not reprimand her, instead, he brushed his hand across the top of the wiry black curls sticking out from her head. He surveyed the nervous collection of Death Eaters with shrewd eyes, before landing on the youngest Malfoy._

" _Come." Voldemort enjoyed the silent shiver that rippled through his followers, his voice barely a hiss. "Oh my dear Draco, do not make me repeat myself. It would be most…unpleasant for you."_

 _Lucius Malfoy's sunken grey eyes and haggard expression never altered, however, it was painfully obvious to his wife, and Lucius stiffened. Narcissa fervently hoped her husband did not do anything rash. Her lips moved in silent prayer, while Bellatrix sneered at her youngest sister._

 _Bellatrix hauled herself to her feet, sticking close to her Master, her obsidian eyes filled with reverence. Her skin tingled in delight simply being in close proximity to the Dark Lord, and she would have gladly given her life, if he had requested it of her. She was near salivating as her nephew stepped forward, in his achingly slow manner._

 _She resisted the urge to clap her hands with glee. Bellatrix had always enjoyed observing the punishments of others. She knew her nephew deserved it, more than most. He was an arrogant boy, but he was malleable. She had trained him well, and he was still a disappointment._

 _It irked her really. Bellatrix Lestrange had put forth her best efforts as far as instructing her nephew was concerned, and how was she repaid? With falsehoods! She was practically salivating as she watched her Dark Lord's wand point toward young Draco Malfoy._

" _My Inner Circle is clamouring for your death." Tom Riddle's hissing whisper filled the Malfoy Drawing Room, as no one dared to breathe. "At first, I was inclined to agree with them, however, I do not appreciate manipulation."_

 _Voldemort's wand flick was artistry at it's finest. Draco's red-rimmed eyes refused to meet the soulless pools staring down at him. From his peripheral vision, Draco saw a handful of Death Eaters fall, and took a slow shuddered breath, hoping his parents were not amongst the fallen._

" _Greyback, tend to them."_

 _Draco shivered, understanding the less than subtle implications. He kept his eyes trained on the bony, pale fingers twirling a wand, rather than to watch Greyback drag the now deceased Death Eaters outside. He had witnessed more than enough and hoped it wouldn't be his corpse following suit._

" _I have been informed…" Voldemort paused, sucking his breath through his teeth as he placed his hand on Draco's shoulder, "We had guests. Is this correct?"_

" _Y-yes, Milord." Draco Malfoy's knees knocked together, and the sound of his bones smashing together was audible in the din._

" _I thought as much, however, I must admit I'm quite baffled, Draco." Lord Voldemort filled the dark and dreary drawing room with a dramatic, yet ragged sigh. "I was under the assumption you of all people would be able to identify our enemies. You faltered. You disappointed me. You failed."_

" _I wished to be certain, Milord." Draco Malfoy's words were sure, but within, he swore his very bones were trembling with fear._

 _He didn't flinch when the bony, cold hand dropped onto the top of his head. He closed his eyes and willed his feet to remain still. While he clung to the last vestiges of his precarious sanity, Draco Malfoy took a precious moment to regret._

" _You poor, deluded child. Did you think I would not know? I can feel your pathetic emotions rolling off you in waves of regret. My dear Bellatrix warned me of your weakness, and it seemed she was correct in her crazed assumptions. You leave me no choice, young Draco Malfoy."_

 _For the barest hint of a nanosecond, Draco was relieved. He allowed his shoulders to relax, knowing his end was upon him. He stood tall and strong, unwilling to cower in the moment of his death. He silently prayed to whatever gods were listening, for Harry Potter to prevail. He wished he could see it. He wished he could be free…perhaps in another life._

" _Wait!"_

 _Lucius Malfoy's wail filled the Drawing Room, and even The Dark Lord paused, his wand hovering over the Malfoy heir with indecision. Lucius stumbled forward, his long, dirty, platinum blonde hair swinging to and fro, as he pushed through the throng of Death Eaters. His grey eyes were rimmed in red, nearly wild, and his hands shook significantly while he pleaded with his Master._

" _You dare interfere with our Dark Lord?!" Bellatrix was quick with her wand, quite talented even, but Tom Riddle blinked, and she was flung into the nearest stonewall._

" _Forgive me, Milord. I only wished to provide you with essential information." Lucius refused to glance upon his only son, his heir, in a singular quest to save the boy's life._

" _Proceed." The Dark Lord's upper lip curled, and his entire grey face seemed to twist in displeasure._

" _The wards of the Manor are tied to my son. We…" Lucius faltered, but Narcissa was quick to step forward and grasp his hand._

" _We know we have earned your displeasure, Milord." Narcissa stared into the seemingly reddish eyes glinting from the Dark Lord. She did not waver. "We knew our days were numbered, and even so, we were, we are, more than willing to accept our fate. However, we have been faithful to you and as such, we wished nothing more than to keep you safe." Narcissa squeezed her husband's hand, and he drew his strength from her, nodding ever so slowly._

" _If I were to die, the wards of the Manor would fall. The Order of the Phoenix would be able to walk through the front door without invitation. Therefore, we altered the Blood Wards and entrusted them to our son."_

 _Voldemort snarled angrily, and thrust his long arms behind his back, clasping his hands together. He maintained a firm grip on his wand, and his followers knew better than to do nothing more than breathe. He hissed, and grumbled even, before his slitted eyes bored holes into Lucius Malfoy._

 _He hadn't felt true rage in so long, Tom revelled in the feel of it, very nearly titillated as it coursed through his veins and warmed his skin. He barely felt the walls of Malfoy Manor groan beneath the force of his magic. He definitely didn't feel the sting as the glass windows shattered, covering the drawing room in slivers._

 _As for Draco Malfoy, his grey eyes were wide with disbelief, and he braced himself for the Killing Curse that did not come. Instead, his ears were filled with the cacophony of his pounding heart and the force of his ragged breaths. He felt the forceful winds of magic swirling around him, and he covered his eyes as the glass raced across his cheek._

 _Voldemort wielded his wand in fiery rage, his red eyes flashing as his fingers curled protectively around his precious wand. His thin lips opened, yet his shout was lost in the storm violently encasing him._

 _Draco shouted as the force of the spell sent him spiralling through the air. He was barely cognizant of crashing into ragged glass and broken bits of stone before slumping to the floor. His chest rose slowly, painfully even, but his mother was grateful it rose at all._

 _The pain was worse than the Cruciatus, and he imagined Hermione Granger weeping in a puddle of blood on the Manor floor. Draco wondered if she had visions of her death fluttering behind closed eyes while his aunt tortured her. He didn't experience such things. In fact, he felt nothing, and he saw nothing…before he faded into darkness._

 _The magic faded, leaving the Manor drawing room in absolute shambles. The elder Malfoys were petrified to move, let alone see to their son. The tiny cuts littering their aristocratic features stung in the remnants of the harsh breeze, but they didn't dare tend to their wounds._

" _See to this mess." The Dark Lord growled, low and ominously, before his smouldering eyes flitted toward the pale, contorted lump in the corner. "Take him to the dungeons. Heal his wounds that he may stand beside me while I destroy the last vestiges of Harry Potter."_

 _Bellatrix Lestrange whimpered as she crawled across the cold marble floor. The shards of glass cut into her knees and sliced the palms of her hands, but she dared not rise in the face of her Lord's ire. Her dark eyes met the repulsive Greyback's as he slunk back into the Drawing Room after disposing of the deceased._

 _If she had been the sort of witch to appreciate others, Bellatrix would have been grateful to see Greyback heft the Malfoy filth over his shoulder. She scrambled to her knees, tripping over the ripped tulle of her ragged black gown._

 _It was a silent walk to the dungeons, but that soon ended. The tortured screams were concerto of magnificence that soothed her questionable soul. A maniacal smile broke across her plump lips, and she resisted the urge to hex the prisoners until she was weary._

 _Of course, Bellatrix knew she hadn't the time to dally, but the thoughts of torture pleased her greatly. Instead, she paused near the first cell at the base of the jagged, damp steps, and looked to Greyback questioningly._

" _This'll do as well as any other." He snarled in a guttural manner that was his own._

 _Bellatrix flicked her wand, and soon Draco Malfoy was being cast into a dark, dreary cell. The wrought iron creaked, almost in objection as the Manor was forced to imprison one of its own. The newest prisoner was healer quickly, as Bellatrix the Dark Lord would wish to protect the boy, despite his fury._

 _Neither the werewolf nor the witch bothered to see to his baser needs. They were not the least bit interested in things such as clean clothing or even water. Draco Malfoy was alive, and as for the rest? Well, that could easily be delegated. They left in silence, just the way they came, anxious to wait for their next directive._

 _Nary a month later, they were gathered together to defeat Harry Potter. The excitement was high, and the Death Eaters were anxious to overtake the Light. Bellatrix Lestrange took her rightful place beside Lord Voldemort with a sparkle in her eyes that even he could appreciate._

" _Give me Harry Potter," Voldemort spoke slowly and softly, almost as though he was capable of hypnotizing his adversaries with the lull of his voice. "And none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall be rewarded. You have until midnight."_

 _Bellatrix resisted the urge to scoff at his kindness. She wouldn't have given them more than a moment to decide. She would have stormed the castle and slaughtered them all without a second thought. Instead, she waited._

" _They won't do it," Greyback grunted, lashing out at Dolohov when the wizard jabbed his fist into the werewolf's ribs._

" _Let them build their confidences. Let them say their goodbyes, for tonight…they shall die." Voldemort smiled, and it was a terrifying sight._

 _He pointed his wand and spells were being cast, carefully cracking the protections surrounding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was patient, and his magic did not falter, not with the Elder Wand between his fingers._

 _Lucius Malfoy squinted into the night sky, barely capable of seeing out of his swollen, puffy eyes. His punishments had been ample enough, and still, he had not fully recovered, nor been permitted to heal his wounds. He stood with The Dark Lord out of necessity, as he held no loyalty any longer._

 _The moment the protections were broken, he was running, running toward Hogwarts, running toward freedom. He knew his only hope of freedom laid in a boy he had learned to detest, and he fervently hoped it was not too late. If there was any hope of saving his son, it rested with Harry Potter._

 _Voldemort drifted through his shouting Death Eaters and slipped into the shadows. In the commotion, it was easy for him to traverse toward the Shrieking Shack, biding his time, perfecting his plan. It didn't take him long to question the wand in his hand, and his dealings with Severus Snape were less than pleasant._

 _He had been fond of the man, as loyal as he was, Voldemort could not look down upon him. However, power was his truest and greatest love. It wouldn't do to have the master of the Elder Wand still breathing and taking the power that should be his and his alone. With regret, he ended Severus Snape, but there was no true remorse. Such things were beneath him._

 _It was a simple matter to lure The Boy to the forest. The Dark Lord knew Harry Potter would come. All that insufferable courage and love? He'd never allow his loved ones to perish for him, it was his greatest weakness._

 _He hadn't expected his wand to baulk against him and to be locked in a seemingly never-ending frozen moment of time. The force of his spell should have ended Harry Potter quite easily, and yet he was thrown backwards from the blow._

" _My Lord…my Lord…" Bellatrix crooned as though she was speaking to a lover, and she was, but it was not the time for such sentiments._

 _Voldemort slowly got to his feet and shook the clinging dirt from his dark robes with a sneer. He needed a moment to collect himself until he realised The Boy Who Lived…had not stirred. His pulse quickened in excitement, and he could barely contain himself, yet he managed._

" _I do not require assistance." He snarled, while he wrenched his arm from Bellatrix's grasp. "The boy…is he dead?"_

 _The bang of a Jinx and yelp was enough to rouse the dumbfounded Death Eaters, and it was Narcissa Malfoy scurrying forward. She bent over Harry Potter, her long blonde hair obscuring her lips as she pressed them to his ear._

" _Can you do it? Can you kill him?" The whisper was barely audible, but Harry heard it._

" _Yes." He hissed as quietly as humanly possible._

 _Her sharp fingernails pierced his skin as she pressed upon his chest, near his heart. Harry felt her withdraw and nearly drew a full breath, but stopped himself._

" _He is dead!" Narcissa Malfoy called to the Death Eaters, and a great cheer rose from their ranks._

 _Of course, Harry Potter wasn't dead, and it wasn't that much later it was obvious to everyone. Voldemort was entirely too pleased with himself, and he didn't pay much attention to the obvious breaths being drawn by the wilted wizard in the giant's arms._

 _He was much too busy delivering his victory speech and humiliating the Light's Saviour. He wished them to bow before him, as though he was some sort of god, but to his great chagrin, they declined. Tom Riddle's fingers twitched in irritation as he dealt with the Longbottom boy, and Bellatrix's laughter fuelled his glee._

 _Voldemort was terribly busy duelling with witches and wizards alike to be concerned with the location of Harry Potter's body, but he should have taken the time. The cold hatred in his face as he duelled the likes of Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and even Horace Slughorn, at once was not enough to cause him to falter._

 _He was more than pleased to see Bellatrix still fighting, wielding her wand like the psychotic witch he knew well. She did the same as he, battling three at once, and for a moment, The Dark Lord was proud._

 _Molly Weasley, the filthy blood-traitor was a formidable witch, and her fiery temper had aided her well. The moment she spied the Killing Curse hurtling toward her only daughter, she was determined to end the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange._

" _NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!" Molly threw off her cloak, and she ran toward the fray. Bellatrix spun and her laughter rang out loudly over the sounds of shouts and cries as she caught sight of her new challenger._

 _Molly shouted to the young girls formerly duelling the Death Eater's whore, and they watched in terror and delight as Molly's wand slashed and twisted, causing Bellatrix's smile to falter. Bellatrix snarled and jets of light flew from both wands, as the ground beneath their feet became hot and cracked. This was a fight to the death, and there could be only one champion._

 _Students ran forward, as if to give aid, but Molly Weasley refused to yield. She snarled at them, declaring Bellatrix Lestrange hers. Bellatrix taunted Molly, speaking of the children she would leave behind upon her death._

" _You will never touch our children again!" screamed Molly Weasley, and Bellatrix laughed, with a knowing smile._

" _Oh love, but I shall." Bellatrix Lestrange cast a curse so curious, Harry Potter was unable to recognise it as it cut through the air._

 _It soared beneath Molly's outstretched arm and struck the witch squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Molly's face was frozen, her lips parted as she realised she had been defeated. She toppled, landing with quite a thud and the watching crowd of Light roared with disbelief._

 _Voldemort shouted in triumph, his fuel revitalized as he finally, finally faced Harry Potter. He barely listened to the boy's soliloquy, until the Elder Wand was mentioned, and his body went cold._

" _The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."_

 _The Dark Lord searched amongst his Death Eaters and spied Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy cowering in the shadows. With a quirk of his finger, he forced them forward, their toes scraping against the ground as they valiantly attempted to resist the summons._

" _Where is he?" Voldemort spat, his wand dangerously near Narcissa's throat._

" _I did not bring him." Narcissa blinked slowly, and Harry did not intervene._

" _You defied me." He hissed, "You shall pay for your errors in judgement."_

" _Take me!" Lucius Malfoy shoved his wife behind him, his arm spread as he implored his one-time master. "My life is forfeit, for my son." He embraced his wife, and Narcissa stiffened as realisation settled in her chest, but she did not stop him._

" _So be it." Voldemort snarled and slashed the air. "Avada Kedavra."_

 _Lucius Malfoy crumpled to the ground with a smile on his lips, but that wasn't the most surprising bit. Tom Riddle, The Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort crumpled with a great screech of indescribable pain. He felt as though he was being torn into pieces, and the gasps surrounding him seemed to support such thoughts._

 _His very body seemed to shrivel, and he struggled to even lift his hands. His eyes shirked away from the light above him, knowing it was nothing more than a closely cast Lumos. Voldemort felt as though he were sinking into the earth._

" _He's dead!" Harry Potter shouted in confused triumph, though he had to admit he didn't understand how._

 _Voldemort wished to refute the words, but he was weakened considerably. He searched for Bellatrix Lestrange's mind in the throng of Light and Dark, pleased to feel her reaching for him as well._

 _How she managed to manoeuvre toward him was anyone's guess, but she had. In the midst of the commotion, while the Light was celebrating their Victory, Bellatrix was whisking away what little remained of the Dark Lord, while there was only one thought on his mind._

" _Until we meet again."_


	2. 2 - Draco

_One Year Later_

* * *

Draco

* * *

I know exactly how many days I've been in the doldrums of the cellar. I've been carefully counting, scraping lines into the crumbling stone. My judgement could be off since I can only guess. It's close enough I suppose. At least they feed me, which is more than can be said for some of the other occupants.

I can't see them, but I can hear their insipid whining, begging, and pleading. There are days when I want to shout at them, but I don't. There's no point in it. I used to, in the beginning, but they hated me as much as they hate their gailers.

They didn't know any better. They didn't know I had been cursed to this life as well. They didn't know much of anything, as far as I was concerned, but it didn't stop them. They berated me nearly as much as I berated myself. The cacophony of their angry, muddled shouts only caused my head to ache.

I could have shouted back. I could have defended myself, or some such nonsense, but I didn't. I remained silent and retreated into myself. I didn't like what I saw, and it was my fault.

I've had quite a lot of time to think. In the beginning, I was so ridiculously angry, I was blinded. Sometimes, when I reflect upon my misguided childhood, I shudder at my actions. Of course, there's nothing I can do about it now. Now, I simply sit in wait for the day to arrive that will be my last.

* * *

 _Three Years Later_

* * *

Time passed as slowly as you'd think it would, but I couldn't allow myself to lose track. It was the only grip on sanity I had managed to retain. It had been over a thousand days since the last time I heard someone else's voice.

Somewhere along the way, it seemed the other prisoners had been released, or perhaps they'd even died. There was no way for me to know. My gailers didn't speak to me any longer.

Don't get me wrong. There was an occasional grunt or an inconsequential slip of information, but I couldn't do anything with it. I didn't recognise any of the voices and believe you me, I really fucking tried.

The only inkling I ever had to their arrival was the clang of a tray onto the damp stone. The moment it bounced on the stone, I scraped another line into the wall nearest what passed for a bed. I never tried to decipher what I was fed. It was better that way.

I remembered when they used to speak to me, almost fondly. They'd snicker, and cast their hateful words. Sometimes they'd attempt to enter my cell and abuse me a bit. Their efforts were for nought, but even so, it was harrowing. I definitely don't miss that in the least.

There were loads of things I did miss, but it hurt to think about them. It took a valiant effort to avoid thinking of my mother. I missed her desperately, but to show weakness was failure, and I had failed plenty.

It had been three hundred and eighty-seven days since the last time they brought in another prisoner. I shuddered, grateful but also conflicted. I didn't enjoy being alone, but I didn't enjoy the company either.

I didn't want anyone else to suffer what I had suffered. There wasn't much I could do for the men, but I did my best for the women. Some I managed to protect, by drawing the Death Eater's attentions to me rather than the women, but most of them…I could do nothing other than plug my ears, and pray to Merlin the Death Eaters tired quickly.

There was one witch I helped escape. I paid for that dearly. There are some nights when the memories of my abuses consume me. I'd wake vomiting, covered in my own sick. I'd shake and yes, I'd even weep, as much as someone in my situation was capable.

I think about her sometimes. I hope she found her way back to the Order. Of all the ways I had imagined my life going, I'd never thought I'd be relying upon Harry Potter to save me. It wasn't just me though, supposedly, he was The Chosen One, and the Wizarding World needed him to do his job.

It felt strange to embrace a complete about face, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was necessary. It was survival. I didn't have high hopes I'd ever see the light of day again, but that minuscule sliver of hope kept me alive. However, I have to admit, there were times I couldn't remember the point of even drawing breath.

I really was a hateful little bastard, wasn't I? I mean, I blindly followed my family's doctrines, and what did that get me? What did it get them? I don't know. I don't know if my parents are alive or dead. I don't know if I'll see another day. I don't know if the War is still raging, but I do know that Dark Dick is still alive.

* * *

 _Five Years Later  
_

* * *

Did you know I don't even really understand the reason my father hates…or is it hated…the Weasleys? I didn't know much about them, other than they were poor. I suppose I also knew they were Pureblood, but they didn't embrace the traditions my father held dear. They had a load of children and lived in a strange looking sort of house.

The twins were hilarious, but I wasn't allowed to voice such opinions. They hated us as well. Perhaps one day, if any of them have survived, if I have survived, I'll seek them out and ask. Maybe not the Weasel though, he irritates me.

I didn't like the way everyone fawned over Harry Potter, but now that I think about it, I'm sure he didn't much like it either. It must have been really difficult to be dropped into a world you didn't even know existed, and then expected to save everyone. He also was a bit conceited, but then again, so was I in those days. I hope he's grown up.

Hermione Granger, Muggle-born witch, well what was there to say about her? My distaste for her had little to do with her blood, contrary to everyone's opinion. It had more to do with the fact she was better than me.

I had lived my entire life in a magical world with magical parents, and then she came along and destroyed my self-image. My mother was the sort of witch to tell me I was the best, and I _was_ , before Hermione Granger. I'd never been second to anyone, and I hated it. It didn't help that she was a girl, and a pretty girl as well.

"It was a tough loss. I can't believe their lot has retaken Hogwarts. I thought we were pretty solid bu…" It was a gruff, nearly gravelly sort of voice, and I imagined a portly wizard with rosy cheeks.

"Shut it. The Dark Lord says we're not to speak in the Malfoy's vicinity." That voice was bone-chillingly cold, the sort that made me swallow hard.

"What's vicinity mean?" Gregory Goyle! I wasn't too far off.

Of course, it was Greg. I hadn't heard a voice, an actual voice in so long I'd almost forgotten humanity existed, and my ears were raped with the sound of fucking Gregory Goyle. I barely managed to smother a raspy snicker. I didn't need another beating to remind me of my place. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. I passed most of my time sleeping.

They ignored me. I didn't happen to know who Goyle's companion happened to be, but it didn't matter. It never mattered. I listened to the clang of the tray on the floor and dutifully made another line in my wall.

Sometimes, my thoughts strayed to my mother. I had forgotten the sound of her voice. I had forgotten the safety of her arms. I had forgotten more than I remembered, and it made me sink into the depths of melancholy.

"She's pretty." I didn't like the sound of longing in Greg's voice. It made me uneasy.

"We can't touch her." It sounded as though the other bloke shoved Greg a bit, and that was fine with me.

"I didn't touch her, I only said she was pretty." Greg sighed, and I held my breath, listening to what I could not see.

From the sounds of it, there were three of them, though the third was silent. I suspected the silence was from their prisoner. It had been, well, I can't remember, but hundreds upon hundreds of days since the last prisoner made their last sound.

From the whispered conversation, I could easily assume their newest acquisition was a woman. It was dangerous to be a woman during times of war. It was even more dangerous if you were a woman and a member of the Order.

There were times in the beginning days of my imprisonment that the Death Eaters captured Muggles for sport. It was their version of entertainment. Being locked in a cell kept me from intervening much. I'd shout a bit, but that only earned me things I'd rather not think about.

"Where are we supposed to put her? The other cells have been sealed." I'd gleaned the most information from Greg. He wasn't the brightest, and he didn't hate me nearly as much as the others, which helped.

"Put her in with him I suppose." I really couldn't place the man, and it was irritating me more than it should.

"Think we could have a go first?" Vaguely, I wondered if the other bloke rolled his eyes at Greg's question. It's something I would have done.

"You know the rules, Goyle. He's got to ask the question for us." The cold, snarling sort of voice dropped off at the end, and I heard the clang of my cell opening.

The rules were ridiculous. If I wanted to eat. If I wanted to drink. If I wanted to escape their sadistic abuses. I had to ask the question, at least where the female captives were concerned. It was only one question, but due to my special circumstances, it was easier for me to suss out a liar than all of them combined.

I heard a light grunt and knew her knees had slapped onto the stone. I didn't move from my perch at the edge of my poor excuse for a bed. I was waiting for direction. I listened to her struggle to stand, and offered a hand. It was the least I could do.

She grasped it, and I noted her hands were slightly roughened. Sadly, she was probably a member of the Order. I would do my best, but I didn't imagine she would last long in these conditions.

"Go on then." The gruff order came from the raspy voice, and I sighed.

I pulled her, but only slightly, and she tripped. It was expected, considering it was dark as pitch in the doldrums of the cellars. It always was, but I was used to it. The muted light from Goyle's lamp was too far to aid much, but I manoeuvred her into the corner anyway.

She whimpered the moment the cool stone touched her back, and I didn't blame her. I kept hold of her hand, squeezed it gently, and leaned down. She was a small witch, and if Goyle thought she was pretty, the poor girl was probably gorgeous.

"Are you a virgin?" My ragged whisper was hidden beneath Goyle's laboured breathing, and she flinched.

"N-no." She was hesitant, and also a liar. It was a gift I suppose, but it didn't serve me well.

"Liar. You've got to lie better than that if you expect me to protect you." She wrenched her hand from mine, and I realised I had been stroking the soft flesh with my thumb.

It was an accident. It hadn't been my intention. It had been a thousand days if it had been one since I'd touched the flesh of a woman. It wasn't carnal in nature, it was comfort.

"Speak up! We've got to be able to hear the reply, you wanker!" I sighed, despising my predicament, as much as I hated that bastard's voice, and stroked her cheek.

"Have you ever been with a man?" I lowered my voice, my lips grazing her ear, "Pretend I've asked the other question and tell the truth."

"Yess." She hissed, and I could hear the collective groan on the other side of the metal bars.

My gailers retreated, and I sagged in relief. She was safe, for the moment, and I couldn't ask for more than that. She shouldn't expect more than that. A life lived in the dungeons was best lived one moment at a time.

"They're gone for now. You'd better rest while you can." I gestured toward my cot, and she shied away from it. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not them. I'm a prisoner, just as you."

"You're nothing like me." She was fiery, I had to give her that. It seemed she knew who I was, which wasn't going to aid me in the friends department, but it's not like I was unknown. She'd had to be living under a rock if she didn't know me on sight.

"You can hate me if you like. Gods knows I've spent years doing it, but it would be stupid to turn down the last bit of kindness you'll receive down here. I'll not likely offer again." I probably would offer, but she didn't need to know that.

"She said you'd say that." I didn't know whom she was talking about, but my curiosity was piqued. "Look, I'm a mess, and everything is…strangely clean, I can't…"

"In the far corner. It's a magical loo. My father had scoffed at the idea, but my mother had insisted. Perhaps she knew one day her son would be living in the bowels of her husband's ancestral home. I don't know. I don't care. It will provide you everything you require."

I listened to the sounds of her bare feet as they scraped along the stone, and sighed. She was going to be difficult. I could tell. The other witch had been quiet, complacent even. It was easier to feel protective toward her, and while I never knew her name, I still hoped she made it to safety. I had risked my life to ensure her freedom, and I would do it all again. I would rescue this one too, even if it killed me. It was the only thing I was good for anymore.

"I-I think this is your shirt. There didn't seem to be anything else…" She was hesitant but kept her distance from me, which was probably for the best.

"It's fine." While she had been bathing, I'd managed to gather a few threadbare blankets and a flat pillow. I made my space beside the cot, and absolutely refused to shudder as the cold seeped through my tatty slacks.

"Y-you can't stay there. You'll catch your death." My barking laughter must have confused her, but I managed an insolent shrug.

"As if such things matter in this place? Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I've survived worse. Go on then, into bed with you." I turned from her then, not that she could see me, but it made me feel better.

She didn't argue with me, and I was thankful. It had been so long since I'd actually conversed with another human being, I found it incredibly draining. I rested my head against the hard stone and despite the chill, quickly fell asleep.

The days all blurred together, and I didn't mind it. While we didn't exactly converse, it was comforting to know I wasn't completely alone. We didn't touch, we never touched, at least on purpose, and I didn't mind that either.

I couldn't help but to recall my previous companion. She was exceedingly kind and when she revealed her House was Hufflepuff, I wasn't the least bit surprised. She cared for me far more than she aught too, and I allowed it. I didn't dissuade her because I was so fucking lonely, and so fucking miserable.

This one was different. She thanked me when appropriate like when I shared the tray of dismal food, they brought daily. She stole my bedrolls every other day, forcing me to lie upon the cot. Some mornings, at least I assume it was mornings, I would wake to discover her hand tucked into mine.

I didn't know if it was for her comfort, or for mine, but it wasn't horrid. I didn't know how to react to touch any longer. Frankly, it scared me, more than a little, and I'd been through some horrific things.

She had a small hand, and it was lost in mine. It always felt as though she simply slipped her fingers between the curves of mine, and perhaps she did. There was never a bit of pressure, and I never tore my hand away. I'd pretend I had never woken, and gone back to a fitful slumber.

"Greyback requests your presence." I hated that snarling raspy voice. I wanted to know whom it belonged to as much as I didn't. "It's either you or the bint."

I sighed and stretched my arms over my head. It was completely unnecessary to inform me as to my options. They never changed. Before this witch, it had been the other, before the other, it had been random Muggles, and witches, whose names I'd never bothered to learn. Regardless, it was all the same in the end. I would go. I would go and suffer through my punishments with clenched teeth, wishing death would grace me with his presence.

"I'll go." Her voice was soft and silky smooth. Strangely, it reminded me of honey, and my thoughts nearly strayed toward the shape of them, the feel of them, but I didn't have the luxury of such notions.

The stupid witch actually offered. She had no idea what she was saying. She was forfeiting the protections afforded her by remaining with me. She was negating the answer to the question I was forced to ask. I couldn't allow that.

"She won't. I'll go." I struggled to stand as my limbs had seized from the aching cold of the stone. She grasped my wrist, and I hissed from the sensation, causing her to withdraw.

"You don't have to do this." It was the longest sentence she had spoken to me in forty-seven days, but she was still wrong.

"There's a small collection of Healing Potions on the bottom shelf near the sink basin. There are also clean cloths and fresh towels. I'll require them when I return. If you could just…place them at the foot of the bed, I'd appreciate it." I didn't bother to explain why she couldn't bend to the request. She'd learn soon enough upon my return.

I silently counted the steps to the rusted metal bars and exhaled a shaky breath. I hoped she had remained on her bedroll. I didn't want her to witness the tremble in my legs, the twitch of my fingers.

I listened to the clang of the metal bars and knew she was going to do something stupid. I heard her feet slap against the floor before my gailer did, and I snatched her around the waist before she crossed the threshold. I held her tightly against me, noticing her hair was shorn for the first time.

"Don't do anything stupid. You have no idea the protection this cell provides. Never, ever pass the threshold. It will break the enchantments, and you'll be a slave to their sadistic desires. You don't want to willingly offer your virtue to those who will not appreciate it. Stay." I shoved her toward the cot, and three steps later, I was standing before the heavy breathing tubby wizard.

I didn't understand why she was crying, but I didn't have time to reflect upon it. My gailer slapped his meaty hand upon my back and shoved me down the narrow corridor. I counted the steps, swallowing hard in the knowledge, I was merely a few yards from the front door of Malfoy Manor.

"I see he's still alive then. Pity." Greyback, oh how I hated him. I was absolutely positive the feeling was mutual, but it had never stopped him from utilising my body as he saw fit.

I didn't fight back. I used too, but those days were long gone. I had never escaped unscathed. In fact, fighting them had only made it worse in the end. Death Eaters weren't known for their gentleness after all.

"Your father is dead. Did you know that?" I could feel Greyback circling me, studying me, and I remained silent. "I suspect your mother will be next." He shoved me, and the wind was knocked from me.

It was the unforgiving stone table. It had become the bane of my existence, and I was hard-pressed not to gag. My palms slapped the stone, and I bowed my head. I knew what was coming, and there wasn't fuck all I could do about it. I hated my life and wished, begged even, for it to be over, but there was never an answer.

My clothes were stripped off me, and my legs kicked apart. Then I was beaten. They always enjoyed that bit. They preferred Muggle means, and from my best guess, utilised some sort of leather strop. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out, tasting the copper of my own blood as my mouth filled.

They enjoyed humiliating me. Once upon a time, I had been part of the Inner Circle. Once upon a time, I had been trusted with some of the Dark Bastard's darkest secrets. Once upon a time, the Malfoy name had meant something, but now, I was nothing more than a Death Eater plaything. I won't go into detail, but I'm sure you can guess what happened.

"Enoughhh." The wispy, hissing voice of the Dark Bastard stopped Greyback mid-assault.

That had never happened before. The Dark Bastard wasn't fond of the Death Eaters punishments, but he had also never interrupted one. He'd allowed them to do what they would, while he pretended he was whole.

Harry Potter might not have murdered Voldemort, but he had certainly destroyed him. The bloke, if you could call him that, was barely corporeal, but he was still terrifying. I suspected I was kept hidden due to the knowledge I bore.

I wondered if The Order knew the truth of it. I wondered if they truly believed Harry Potter had vanquished The Big Bad. I wondered if they were curious as to why the Death Eaters continued with their murderous intentions. I wondered many things quite honestly, but the answers were few and far between.

It was strange, having Death Eaters quickly repairing my poor excuse for clothing. It was doubly strange to hear their murmured apologies. I doubt they meant it, as fear will cause a person to do nearly anything. Hell, I was an absolute testament to that.

I would have sold my useless left bollock for a Time-Turner. I wouldn't have bothered trying to convince my younger-self prejudice was futile. No, I would have visited my father, on the cusp of the First War.

I would show him my battle scars. I would explain every mark upon my flesh in riveting, revolting detail. I would watch his face turn shades of green. I would explain to him, it was time to alter his choices before such errors destroyed not only his life but also that of his only son.

I wonder…if it would have changed anything, anything at all.


	3. 3 - Narcissa

I still had difficulty believing this was my life. I knew exactly how it had happened, but it didn't ease the sting of loss. At one time, I had been a prestigious member of the Wizarding Community, and now, I was in hiding, cowering away with none other than Harry Potter.

His humble abode was a far cry from Malfoy Manor, but it wasn't an utter and complete hovel. It seemed my presence calmed the Black Family Portraits, which made me feel useful at times. In the beginning, I had spent most of my time crooning to them, in order to quell their screams, it wasn't particularly enjoyable, but it was better than taking tea with that horrid little Weasley.

Some would say I should be more appreciative, and I am. I am thankful to have a roof over my head. I am thankful, I am free of the enslavement of the Dark Lord. I am thankful I lied, and Harry Potter still exists.

However, I do have my own agenda. I used to keep such thoughts to myself, but after the passing of time, I began to share them. It was much more difficult than I thought it would be. As a Black, and later a Malfoy, I was groomed from a tender age to keep family secrets as such, however, the Age of the Pureblood is quickly coming to a close.

I take my tea with a Muggleborn witch who does not harbour animosity toward me, though I do believe she should. I have a sneaking suspicion she's planning something, and I don't blame her. Spending one's days within the walls of Grimmauld Place does grow tedious, quite quickly.

I try to keep myself busy, but there really isn't much to do. Sadly, I spend most of my time remembering. I miss my husband, but not the man he had become. I miss the man I once knew. I miss the man who loved me, and our son unequivocally. I miss every day before Tom Riddle wheedled his way into our lives.

I should have been stronger. I should have discarded centuries of prejudiced Pureblood notions, which isn't as laughable as it sounds. I should have dismissed following a Half-Blood who screeched about purity. I should have done many things, and yet I did nothing.

We were so stupid. We were so easily misled, and look where it's gotten us. My husband, the father of my only child, is dead. Yes, he sacrificed himself, yet that does not erase his transgressions. I fear nothing shall, and now it is my burden to bear.

Mr Potter asked me once why I lied for him, but I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't tell him what had happened in Malfoy Manor after he and his little friends had escaped. I didn't wish to relive the punishments and the rages, which accompanied their freedom.

I told _her_ though, and I don't know why. She has a way about her. She has fire in her veins, and I can respect that. I can't say her blood isn't an issue, but I'm trying. I dare believe I shall succeed one day, especially if she keeps her promises.

I try my hardest to avoid thinking of my son. It's an easy lie to tell myself. Truth of the matter is, he has consumed my every thought, my every deed, my every…thing. Any mother would feel the same under such circumstances.

 _"You did it for him…didn't you?" Arthur Weasley interrupted my thoughts, with a bitter edge of his voice. I didn't blame him, I couldn't. He'd lost just as much as I, if not more._

 _"You would have done the same." It was true, I knew he would have. Arthur Weasley would have moved mountains to save his wife from my sister._

 _We stood in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with dirt on our faces and tears in our robes and studied each other. What was there to say really? We had both lost in this madness called War._

 _"Harry suspects, but he claims you refused to speak of it." Arthur set the kettle on and pulled tins of stale tea from the nearly bare shelves._

 _"Mr Potter wouldn't have understood. I did not wish to argue with him. He still…believes my son to be nothing more than a spoiled child." I sank into one of the rickety dining chairs with a heavy sigh and resisted the urge to brush the dirt from my robes._

 _"Isn't he then?" Arthur poured the piping hot water into two chipped china cups and set one near my elbow, while he patiently waited for my reply._

 _"He was, yes. However, I suppose the same can be said for many a witch or wizard now grown." I didn't wish to argue with him. I didn't wish to argue with anyone at all. I wished to mourn my husband and lament the imprisonment of my son._

 _"Yes, Hermione's said as much. You'd do well to befriend her. She's your biggest defender it seems." Arthur never sat, instead he leaned against the sink basin and choked down the bitter tea._

 _"Thank you for the tea…Arthur." I'd never used his name before, and it was obvious I had shocked him._

I knew my presence wasn't particularly welcome, but the Order of the Phoenix was not the sort of people to thrust others out into the streets. I wasn't looking for trouble. I was looking for peace.

Arthur was absolutely correct. Strangely enough, Hermione Granger was my biggest ally. Harry Potter didn't put up much of a fuss, but his obnoxious mate was another story completely. It seemed as though he were angry at the world, and I was the nearest target.

I can't even begin to recall the number of heated conversations I'd stumbled upon. Of course, most of them starred my son, which raised my ire. I had learned to keep my lips firmly pressed together, which was quite a blessing where the likes of Ronald Weasley were concerned.

"Harry, you can't let her stay here. You know what her son is like. You know he's a Death Eater. We all know he is…" It seemed he was at it again.

"Ron, I'm really tired of having this conversation with you. Hell, I'm sure even the portraits are tired of hearing you. She's staying. She saved my life. It seems you're the only one with a problem, and I doubt it has anything to do with Narcissa." I smiled thinly, keeping my covert position in the darkened, narrow corridor.

I was fond of Harry Potter. He wasn't nearly the conceited blight on humanity my son had depicted his entire life. The boy was a bit on the pompous side, but I maintain that has more to do with his celebrity than his actual nature. It's hard to maintain one's humility when constantly thrust into the limelight.

"You're not thinking clearly. She obviously saved your life to save her own. Look how well that's worked out for her! Here she is, in the heart of The Order! Just wandering about doing…doing…" It pleased me to hear the Weasley sputter.

"Go on then, Ron. What is it she's doing? Is it preparing tea that offends you so? On the other hand, is it the fact I take my tea with her rather than you? I must say it is lovely to converse with someone over tea and crumpets, and not wind up covered in crumbs." Yes, it seemed once more, the darling of Gryffindor was coming to my rescue.

I wondered how long I would need to be rescued before I rescued myself. I felt it wouldn't be long now, I was getting there, but my son was of the utmost importance. I needed him to be rescued, and it wasn't something I could do myself.

As a Slytherin, I'm naturally manipulative, but Hermione Granger managed to see straight through me. No wonder my son had detested her. He was unable to hide from her, and who enjoys being on display, after all?

"You could always go to the Burrow." Harry Potter had forgotten for just a moment, and I closed my eyes allowing the pain of others to flow over me.

"Harry, are you kicking me out? You're my best mate. You'd really kick me out for the likes of…Narcissa Malfoy?" Quite honestly, I enjoyed listening to him sputter, it amused me, more than it should.

"Look, we've been friends since we were eleven, Ron, but, we're not eleven anymore. We've been through hell and back. We fought side by side…for the most part, and I've really got more to concentrate on than your distaste for my houseguest. I invited her here. I enjoy her company, she's actually quite pleasant, if you'd give her half a chance. You know there's more work to be done. I'd love it if you'd help me, but if you're just going to hinder, then yeah, maybe it would be best if you visited with your family for a bit." I imagined Harry was rubbing his hand along the back of his head, causing his hair to refuse to lie flat.

The poor boy was cursed with that hair. I suppose he had been cursed with worse things, but nothing could be done about that hair. He wasn't even open to suggestion, but I suppose it was to be expected. He hadn't had a proper upbringing, and the closest person he'd ever had as a mother was Molly Weasley, and sadly, she was deceased.

"Far be it from me to interject, but I would think Mr Weasley would be remiss to return to his childhood home in light of the circumstances." It was difficult for me to interfere in their personal matters, but as a mother, I hadn't a choice in the matter.

The poor boy's anger was misplaced, but it was quite valid. I could understand his underlying hatred of me, and his need to lash out. I had often spent many a night surrounded by the strongest of Silencing Charms, cursing my husband's existence and sobbing until my voice was hoarse.

"The Weasley's spend more time here than they do anywhere else, and I can't say as I blame them. You wouldn't wish to send your friend to an empty home devoid of warmth during these trying times, Harry." I still had difficulty calling the boy by his name, but he had insisted. It would have been rude to refuse.

I watched the way Harry Potter's cheeks brightened with a rose hue as he lowered his head. He hadn't considered Molly Weasley's loss in the equation and was obviously embarrassed. Ronald refused to look at me, but I was used to being slighted.

"There is more than enough room for all of us, and I'll do my best to make myself scarce if it will ease Mr Weasley's disposition. I'd rather not be the cause of a rift in friendship if it can be helped." I interlaced my fingers and slowly turned toward the red-haired wizard.

I ignored his scuffed brown shoes and his ridiculously large homespun sweater. I knew it was one of the last things his mother had gifted him, and he revered it. I didn't hold the same animosity toward the Weasleys that my husband did, but I had been conditioned by years of residing with Lucius Malfoy, and I couldn't resist the slightest shudder of revulsion.

"I am not my husband, Mr Weasley. I know you don't believe me, and ordinarily, I would be quite offended to be accused of falsehood, but under the current circumstances, I'll allow you to believe the worst of me, just this once. Your family and mine are not as different as you would believe, even Mr Potter can attest to that. While we were on different sides during a horrific time, it does not alter the fact we were fighting for our families. I had little to no interest in the Dark…er Volde…in His plans." I still couldn't utter his name without dissolving into tears, and I refused to do so now. "My greatest concern has always been my son. He was a product of his upbringing, and I do not excuse, nor do I condone his previous actions.

'Near the end, we were in agreement, you see. We both had come to realise, if any of us had a chance of surviving, Harry Potter had to survive. My husband sacrificed himself for my son. Your mother sacrificed herself for her daughter, your sister. My husband is dead. My son is lost to me. The Death Eaters are vying for my death. We have all lost, Mr Weasley, and now we're simply attempting to survive. If your wish is to continue your unrelenting and unrequited hatred of me than so be it. As for me, I only wish to move forward and as of now, I do believe it would be best for us all to indulge in a lovely stack of pancakes."

It was the most I had ever spoken to anyone, other than Hermione Granger, and it was quite taxing. The air whooshed from my lungs, and I left the study without waiting for a reply. I was quite pleased to hear Ronald Weasley mumble just before the door swung shut, and managed a small smile.

"Well, I do like pancakes."

* * *

"I can't believe you confronted him. Normally, you're quite demure." I lazily observed Hermione Granger cleaning up the remnants of our pancake feast with heavily lidded eyes.

"Someone had to intervene." I sighed and sipped my tea, grateful she had procured fresh tea leaves.

She really was quite a pretty girl. I still had a bit of trouble thinking of her as a true witch, but I no longer considered her blood first, which was a step in the right direction. She was important, more important than she knew. If anyone could rescue my son, it was she.

"They're planning something." Hermione took the empty chair across from me and poured entirely too much honey in her tea, for my tastes.

"As are you." I arched an eyebrow in her direction, my eyes twinkling to discover her surprise. There was an advantage to remaining silent.

"You've overheard the discussions concerning the horcruxes then?" Her overly large amber eyes flitted toward the closed door leading from the kitchen, and she lowered her voice significantly.

"Mr Weasley is…rather loud." Hermione nodded, her riotous curls bouncing, and I realised they would be a problem.

She was a formidable enemy and despite her claims to the contrary, I'm sure the Death Eaters would have loved to get their hands on a member of the Golden Trio. She was an absolute target, especially considering her blood status, not to mention the fact she's a woman.

They would use, and abuse her, for their sadistic pleasure. She would never be the same. If there were something I could do to help her avoid such a fate, I would do it. My thoughts began to churn, while she prattled on about the voracious horcrux search she and her companions had been on. I was listening with half an ear and assumed Harry and Ronald had done the same over the years.

"Silly girl, did you honestly believe The Dark Lord would risk his most precious possession in the face of Harry Potter?" I scoffed, almost pleased to see Hermione flinch, almost as if I had struck her. "Come on then, use that impressively large brain of yours. The Dark Lord knew what you were doing. As part of the Inner Circle, I was privy to information others were not. I was present during numerous rants involving the destruction of coveted possessions. It was an easy matter to discern he had a direct line into the mind of Harry Potter." Hermione's plump lips gaped open, and ordinarily I would have reminded her of her manners, but instead, I was quite pleased.

It wasn't often one could claim they rendered the brightest witch of the age speechless. I am only human after all. I had to take pause and allow the pleasure to course through me. It had been so long since I'd felt anything pleasing.

"He substituted the snake. Oh, my gods." Her palms slapped across her mouth to muffle the sounds of her heart-wrenching sobs.

If I had been Molly Weasley, I probably would have rounded the table and embraced her. I considered it, but it wasn't in my nature to resort to physical contact. I simply allowed her to have a moment and sipped my tea.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor." I finally whispered. It saddened me that I had been the force of nature that caused Hermione Granger to dissolve into tears, but it couldn't be helped.

"Rodolphus Lestrange was discovered dismembered on the battlefield. Bellatrix offered him as substitution didn't she? I always thought she had an unhealthy obsession with….with…him." I knew Hermione refrained from using The Dark Lord's name for me, and I appreciated her efforts.

"Obsession is putting it lightly, my dear. My delightful older sister fashions herself in love with him, if you can imagine." I sniffed with disdain and leaned onto the wooden table with my elbows. "You'll want a bit of parchment. I can't imagine you not taking notes. I'd prefer if we kept this between us. I do believe we can be of help to each other. I will provide you with every minute detail concerning my time in the Inner Circle in return for your assistance."

The silence between us screamed volumes, but neither of us budged. She didn't trust me. She believed I was withholding pertinent information, which could aid the Order in ending this abomination of conflict. She wasn't wrong, but Hermione Granger had forgotten something incredibly important.

I am Slytherin. I might have rescinded my alliances, but I could no more rescind my manipulative nature than I could cease to breathe. I had an agenda, but didn't we all? My knowledge was the only bargaining chip I had, and neither Harry Potter nor the Minister for Magic had even considered questioning me.

"I can't believe they overlooked you." Hermione scoffed, yet rose from the table to scurry from the chilled kitchen.

She returned moments later, and I smirked. Her arms were filled with stacks of parchment, inkwells, and quills, just as I knew they would be. Hermione was ever the eager student, at least according to my son. I realised now, everything he'd ever told me about her had been correct.

She was an insufferable know it all. She detested being interrupted. She was ignored more often than not, especially when she droned on in subjects of little interest. She had a tendency to be abrasive, and not once had I ever heard her say she was sorry. Therefore, I could only assume, Hermione Granger was a bit prideful as well.

It didn't bother me. I am prideful as well. I was always taught apologies were beneath me, and while I could not fathom her Muggle parents teaching such rhetoric, stranger things had happened.

"Are you truly surprised, Ms Granger? The Ministry wished to ignore my presence as much as they wish to ignore Mr Potter's beliefs. They would lose face if it came to light Mr Potter was correct once more. They would lose face if it came to light I had offered ample information, which aided them in ending this ridiculous war. We can't have that, now can we? Did no one ever teach you…image is everything." I smiled, quite sweetly, I thought, but Hermione blinked heavily.

Perhaps the thought had never crossed her mind, how am I to know? I sighed with the slightest trace of irritation while she arranged her belongings just so. I wondered if her former Professors ever withheld lessons while she righted herself, and snorted at the idea. I could just imagine Severus Snape dripping with disdain while the Muggleborn witch carefully set her inkwells and quills upon the Potions desks.

I missed him. He had been a good friend. Merlin, I missed him dearly, but I couldn't think of him. If I thought of him, I would inevitably think of Lucius and then Draco. All roads led to Draco, and the pain in my heart was deafening.

"You don't have a Dark Mark." Hermione had tied her hair into a knot at the base of her neck, her eyes narrowed in concentration, and I had to admire her dedication.

"Don't frown so much, my dear. You're much too young for worry lines." She snorted, but I continued on, "You are absolutely correct. I do not have a Dark Mark. I never needed one. The Dark Lord trusted me implicitly, which is how you will liberate my son from his clutches."

I sat back with a satisfied smile on my lips. I waited for my words to sink in and then, Hermione was gasping. She snapped her quill and completely ignored the black ink coursing down her fingers. She searched my crystal clear blue eyes for the truth, and I knew she wasn't disappointed.


	4. 4 - Harry

_I could feel the cool earth, feel the leaves crackle beneath me. I had squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to relax with every ounce of my being. I listened to the whispers surrounding me and braced myself as someone knelt beside me.  
_

" _Can you do it? Can you kill him?"_

 _I opened my eyes and peeked at the nervous witch hovering over me. I could feel her long blonde hair swinging against my cheek, and I held my breath. The last person I'd ever expected to see with so much fear and hope in her blue eyes was Narcissa Malfoy. I managed an almost imperceptible nod, laying my fate in her hands._

" _HE'S DEAD!"_

I woke the way I normally did, completely drenched in sweat, and smothered a moan. You'd think the dreams would have stopped by now, but they hadn't. Strangely, things hadn't changed all that much since the Battle of Hogwarts.

You'd think it would have. You'd think we'd all be frolicking in the streets. You'd think _something_ would have changed, but it hadn't. I had survived Voldemort, but his Death Eaters hadn't crumpled upon seeing their Lord fall.

Hell, I wasn't even positive he _had_ fallen. There was a murky darkness that had surrounded us, and in the end, I was the only one standing. Of course, immediately afterwards I had to fend off more than a few curses and how I managed, was anyone's guess.

If I had to give credit to anyone, I'd give it to Hermione. She was a whirlwind of fury, and struck out in venomous fury, casting spell after spell. She protected me. I mean, Ron helped, everyone helped, but Hermione was a witch on a mission.

It really was a beautiful sight to behold. I saw her in a different light, for just a moment, but it was enough for Ron to be angry with me. He dragged me off, more concerned with the emotion he'd seen in my eyes, than the barrage of Death Eaters clamouring for our deaths.

He still lords it over me, and it was years ago. Ron always was the sort of wizard to hold a grudge. I mean, you remember the TriWizard Championship, don't you?

We were in hiding. We were all in hiding, but some more than others. I'm still Public Enemy Number One. The Weasleys aren't nearly as sought after, which makes things easier for them. Don't ask me to explain it, I don't understand it in the least.

I missed something. We all missed something. Considering Tom Riddle was the darkest wizard to exist, it was a given. We studied until our eyes blurred, but there's only so much you can glean from books. I'd never say such a thing to Hermione. I don't have a death wish.

Grimmauld Place really _is_ a grim old place, despite all Molly had done to make it feel like home before she was killed. I'd much rather reside in Godric Hollow, but that's not an option. I hope one day I'll be able to live where I was born, where my parents intended us all to live, but I'm losing hope.

Narcissa Malfoy lives with me. I know, I can barely believe it myself. She is absolutely aces in terms of keeping the portraits quiet. Other than that, she's relatively quiet. She's a silent brooder, and I suppose I am as well. We brood together, over cups of tea…laced with firewhiskey.

She saved my life. It would have been really easy for her to tell the truth, and I can't say the end would have been the same. Tom probably would have murdered me on the spot. Instead, she gave me a fighting chance. The least I can do is let her live in this musty place I call home.

I've heard her conversing with Hermione, which was quite a surprise. I had always thought she was just another prejudiced Pureblood. Perhaps she was, but things have changed. They're almost…I suppose you could say, friends, though the amount of time they spend discussing Malfoy makes my stomach turn.

Hermione harps on me for my distaste for the bloke, but you can't blame me. It's not as if we were the best of mates. Far from it actually, and yes I'm well aware he behaved the way he did because of his father's influence, but it doesn't make it better. I wonder if Malfoy knows his father died for him.

I was there at the time, we all were, except him. Narcissa won't tell us what happened to her son, or rather, she refuses to tell me. I have a sneaking suspicion, Hermione knows, but those witches stick together.

As for Lucius, well I can't say I was particularly affected by his death, but it was shocking. I was under the impression Lucius was Tom's right-hand man, besides Pettigrew. Apparently, I was mistaken.

I think Tom expected to see Draco Malfoy amongst the surviving Hogwarts students. I was in the midst of a rather heartfelt monologue, but Tom wasn't listening. He was more concerned about the true master of the Elder Wand. He turned on Lucius so quickly, Neville was forced to tackle Narcissa. I haven't the slightest idea how he managed to get to her so quickly.

It did give him a fantastic advantage, considering he sliced Nagini's head clean off. Later, I asked him why he saved her. He blushed, but the clumsy bumbling wizard I was accustomed to dealing with was gone. In place, was a strong confident Gryffindor who looked me straight in the eye.

"It wasn't her fault, Harry. You've no idea the lengths one would go for love."

At the time, I thought he was mocking me, but I realised later he wasn't. Neville wasn't speaking of familial love. I saw him holding Luna, and I realised he was speaking of romantic love. Their relationship might not have lasted, but his words stayed with me.

"You should come to the Burrow, Harry. It's shaping up nicely." Ron nodded eagerly, but the last thing I wanted to do was spend the weekend surrounded by boisterous Weasleys. I was glad they were healing, they deserved to heal, and I loved them, of course, I loved them, but too much of a good thing and all that.

Something must have shown on my face because he was scowling. He was always scowling these days. His eyes narrowed, and he shot a dark glance toward Hermione's back. It had been years, but he'd never stopped believing there was something sordid going on between Hermione and me.

"Actually, I'm supposed to…"

"Help Hermione with… _research_?" Ron spat and I flinched away from his venom.

"No. She's going to visit Neville and Hannah."

It was nice to see them happy. The days weren't as dark as they used to be, but they gave me hope. Hannah Abbott was a shy witch and Neville was completely over the moon for her. I remembered feeling that way about Ginny, and I knew I could again, one day.

"Oh, sorry. I was just…I mean…" Ron sighed while yanking on Molly's last creation.

"Why don't you just…talk to her?" It wasn't the first time I had suggested it, and it wouldn't be the last.

"I did. She said…she said she didn't see me like that, not anymore. I mean, that means she must have at one point, and it makes me wonder how I missed it." Ron kicked the green armchair in the study, which only set one of the portraits to screaming.

"Lavender Brown, that's how you missed it." It was probably a bit harsh, but it was true.

Ron wasn't particularly fond of that truth, but I was tired of having the same conversation and getting nowhere. I had much more important things to worry about than Ron's love life. Pretty much anything was more important than Ron's love life, but don't tell him I said that.

"Mr Weasley, will you be staying for dinner?" I had never been more thankful for the existence of Narcissa Malfoy.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. No matter how many years we had lived together, she never warmed up to Ron. I couldn't blame her. He was a difficult wizard, and it's not like he was particularly fond of her either.

Ron's grimace was comical, but I knew better than to laugh. Cissa didn't take kindly to unsolicited laughter or laughter in general for that matter. Hermione snorted but covered it quickly with a light cough while drawing the drapes around the horrific Mrs Black.

"Well, now that that's all settled." Narcissa's shoulders relaxed the moment Ron stepped through the Floo and frankly, the entire air changed.

"She's gone, Harry! Hannah's gone! She's been snatched! I saw it!" Neville Longbottom spat the words hurriedly, while he stumbled through the front door, ignoring the shrieks of the portraits.

This was the first time one of our own had been snatched. I vowed it would be the last.

"He told you about that?" I heard Hermione laughing in the kitchen, and frowned.

Laughter had been in short supply these days. The Death Eaters were terrorizing the Wizarding Community, and everyone kept looking to me for the answers. I did my job, what more did they want from me?

I knew there were witches and wizards being snatched off the streets. I knew Muggles were being dismembered and left to litter Diagon Alley. I knew we were barely holding onto Hogwarts. I knew Hannah Abbott had been snatched, and there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it.

The Dark Mark was filling the skies more and more often, and any Death Eaters we managed to catch simply shouted about the Rise of the Dark Lord. Half the time they dove in front of deadly curses, and the other half of the time the Aurors were overzealous. It was ridiculously frustrating, but the Minister for Magic didn't listen to me.

"You'd be surprised the number of things my son talked to me about as far as you were concerned." Narcissa's tinkling laughter almost gave me a heart attack. I'd never heard it before. Hell, I wasn't aware she was capable of laughing.

"I can't imagine that going over well." I noticed the way Hermione avoided speaking of Lucius Malfoy, and realised it was for Narcissa's sake.

I crept closer to the door, sleep still heavy in my eyes and blatantly eavesdropped. If they weren't going to talk to me in my own fucking house, I was going to glean whatever information I could. It was only fair. Alright, fine, I was being utterly ridiculous, and I'm not ashamed of it either.

"Lucius simply fed Draco's anger. He couldn't envision a world where a Muggleborn witch was better than his Pureblood son. I can't tell you how many months it took before Draco finally admitted you had punched him. I can't say I approve of such violence, but considering his less than pleasant disposition, I really can't blame you."

"I lost my temper. It felt really good, but later, I felt guilty. I never told Harry and Ron that bit. They wouldn't have understood." I could hear Hermione's fingernails tapping the side of her teacup and smiled. She wasn't wrong, Ron and I were idiots as far as women were concerned.

"I suppose it is incredibly complicated to be attracted to your enemy. My dear, you're blushing, shall I crack a window?" Sarcasm, Narcissa understood the concept of sarcasm. I seriously needed a drink, but I wasn't about to interrupt them. I was learning too much.

"Yes well, despite his unpleasant disposition, he really was quite attractive. I wasn't the only witch to think so."

"Perhaps not, but you were the only witch he ever spoke of, which speaks volumes."

"Do you…do you think he's alright?" I heard the teacup clatter to the saucer and knew Hermione was working herself into a fit.

"The protections will hold. I can't speak for his mental state, but I hope for the best."

The collective sighs were making me nauseous. I honestly felt a bit betrayed, but for once, I reigned in my temper and closed my eyes. I remembered my attraction to Cho Chang and the judgement that came along with it. I didn't have to be a childish git. I could let her have this as if it were up to me.

I was violently ill. I swear I had tossed the entire contents of my entire body, and yet I continued to heave. We had lost Hogwarts. I couldn't believe it. We had fucking lost Hogwarts…again.

The tears in my eyes were tears of anger. I was furious and I couldn't contain it all. I wasn't even there. After all the years, I had spent within those walls. After all the time, I had spent defending the castle and everything else,…we had lost it. I had lost it.

"Stop it, Harry. There was nothing you could do. The Death Eaters had infiltrated Hogwarts years ago. They were simply biding their time. We'll get it back. We always get it back." I ignored Hermione's insistent voice.

I didn't want to listen to her upbeat moral speech. I wanted to beat the shit out of some Death Eaters, but Shacklebolt had sent me home. As if that was going to help. As if being alone with my thoughts was going to make me feel better.

I was on assignment, like always, when I received the Patronus. It was a Distress Patronus, which were implemented after the Battle of Hogwarts. It was already too late.

I had wanted to be part of the Hogwarts patrol, but Shacklebolt determined I was being obsessive. He wasn't wrong, but neither was I. I wasn't having the mind-searing dreams any longer, but there were moments. There were these small moments filled with snakelike whispers.

I knew Voldemort wasn't dead. I knew he was simply biding his time, but I was just the Crazy One again. I reminded the Minister for Magic what had happened last time I was disregarded, but I was escorted from his office.

"What the fuck happened, Hermione?!" She was there. She could tell me.

"I don't know, Harry. One moment I was in the library with Headmistress McGonagall, and the next moment, I was being shoved into the Floo, and she was dead. I never saw anything. I never heard anything. It was like…it was like an army hiding beneath Invisibility Cloaks." I heard her head thump on the oak, and I knew I wasn't being fair.

"Is that even possible?" I counted to three, knowing her answer even as I wiped the spittle from my lips.

"I'll have to do some research." I laughed, coughing even and listened to the scurry of her feet up the steps. She did adore her books.

I had half a mind to Floo directly to Shacklebolt's office, but I didn't want to risk a quick stint in Azkaban. Kingsley swore that's exactly what would happen if I did that again. I believed him, stubborn bastard that he is.

"Psst, Harry," Neville whispered from the Floo and I frowned.

He'd never been remiss to enter my home before. He was always welcome. Every member of the Order was welcome, but there was something in his eyes that caused me to step toward him.

"You've got to send someone through." Neville continuously looked behind him and there were worry lines etched into his forehead. "It's Hannah. She's returned. Don't ask me how I don't really know."

I was speechless. We hadn't seen Hannah in nearly half a year. I had silently given her up for dead, though I'd never voiced that unpopular opinion. I knew it would have absolutely gutted Neville, and I hadn't the heart.

I was suspicious. It was my nature to be suspicious during such dire times. Frankly, I couldn't remember a time when I hadn't been suspicious since I had discovered the Wizarding World.

I wanted to tell Neville to bring her through, but I didn't. I couldn't. I didn't know what sort of state she was in. I didn't know if our operation had been compromised. I didn't know much of anything, and that needed to change before I could allow Hannah Abbott to step foot into Headquarters.

"Do you want me to…"

"Could you send Narcissa or even Hermione? I really think this situation could use a woman's touch." I would have been offended, but he was right, I suppose.

I wasn't known for my tact or even my understanding. I was always the sort of wizard that rushed into the fray without considering the consequences. Women required a delicate touch, but for the love of Merlin, never tell Hermione I said that.

I was pacing again. It seemed I spent most of my time pacing. It was soothing. It calmed me, though you couldn't tell. I also happened to grumble under my breath, which was brought to my attention more times than I'd like to count.

"You're doing it again," Hermione mumbled from within her little book cubicle. I could barely see the top of her head, which amused me.

"I can't help it alright? You won't even tell me what happened over there. I've got Kingsley breathing down my neck to produce results, but I can't really do that now can I? He refused to allow me to venture to Hogwarts and now you're keeping secrets from me. This is absolutely ridiculous." I was being childish, and I knew it, but I didn't care.

Hermione groaned, stretching her arms over her head. She stood and I realised she really was quite a sight. Her hair was bigger than I'd seen it in years, and I was thankful she hadn't ventured into the streets. She was a target. Almost as big a target as me, and with that hair, she would be easily identified.

Her faded green t-shirt was streaked with wide stripes of dirt, and her jeans hung from her hips. She'd lost weight over the past few months, and I hadn't even noticed. I wasn't being a particularly good friend lately, and I felt a pang of guilt.

"She's delicate, Harry. You can't go rushing in there and demanding answers. Cissa and I have been working with her for months, and I've barely gleaned anything that would be helpful to you." I watched her eyes, and I knew she was lying.

Hermione Granger was one of the worst liars I'd ever met in my entire life. She couldn't keep eye contact and she would always scrunch her nose. She didn't know this, but her cheeks would pinken as well, not that she could do anything about that.

She was a far sight better than when we were children. I had to admit that much. She no longer looked to the ceiling and sighed dramatically. I wondered who had been teaching her, and then I rolled my eyes. Hermione was spending entirely too much time with Narcissa Malfoy.

"You've got to give me something." I didn't finish my thought, it wasn't necessary.

I didn't have to tell Hermione how easy it would be to inform the Minister for Magic she was withholding vital information to our operation. Despite Kingsley's current displeasure, we were still on friendly terms. He might have consistently ignored my insistence that Voldemort was in fact still alive, but if he thought for a moment, anyone was hindering our progress…

"Harry…" She was attempting to wheedle her way out of this, but I wasn't having it.

"No, Hermione. Listen. I know all about your late night teas with Narcissa. I know your conversations surround Draco Malfoy and the Manor. I know you're planning something, and I've kept silent. Hannah's been back for six months and I've stayed away. We fucking lost Hogwarts, and I swear if you reprimand me for my language, I'm going to hex you. We might be mates, best mates even, but there are lines and you're crossing them." I was suddenly furious, and I realised I had every right to feel that way.

I had risked life and limb, and what did it get me? I was regaled to Headquarters and sent on nonessential missions. I was discounted, when I knew in my heart of hearts, in my bones that Voldemort was most definitely not dead.

"You were right, Harry. You were always right." Hermione finally sighed, her clammy palm rubbing her forehead as she stepped around her precarious pile of books in my study.

"Tell me something I don't know, would you?" I was being obstinate, but Hermione didn't seem to notice.

"We missed one. We were wrong. Nagini _was_ a horcrux. She's still a horcrux. She's not dead, which means Voldemort isn't dead." Hermione sunk onto the dark green shabby sofa, planting her head in her hands with stiff shoulders.

"I fucking knew it!" The relief was almost instantaneous, but then the sense of dread seeped deep into my bones. "Wait. If…if Neville didn't behead Nagini…" I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a bit ill. I knew in my heart of hearts the catastrophic remains of Rodolphus Lestrange finally made sense.

I was cocky. I was everything I didn't want to be. This was my fault.


	5. 5 - Hermione

I'd like to say I walked into this with eyes wide open, but I didn't. I tried to glean as much information as possible, really, I did. I hadn't the slightest idea what I was getting myself into, but I couldn't stop. I had promised. I had given my word, and at this point, words were all I had left.

I would love to bore you with all the details of my research, but I promised I wouldn't. Suffice it to say, I had spent more hours sifting through various tomes than I had sleeping these past few years. I knew my efforts were appreciated, but only because no one else wanted to do it. It didn't bother me as much as it used too. Narcissa was quick to point out we all had our strengths, and research was mine.

I was the first to admit I had been looking for him after the Battle of Hogwarts. Malfoy, I mean. I had seen his father fall and seen Neville tackle Narcissa, but he was nowhere to be found. I hadn't enough courage to broach the subject with anyone, but that was due to fear of backlash. Tensions were entirely too high to waste time discussing Draco Malfoy.

I had always thought he was quite a bit like us. I didn't fault him. I mean, I didn't fault him now, our childhood was a completely different matter. I suppose a part of me always felt a bit sorry for him.

I couldn't imagine being forced into a life I didn't want. I compared it to being forced into being a Muggle, knowing there was magic flowing through my veins. It was an awful thought really, and it softened me toward him.

I had expected to take an instant disliking to Narcissa Malfoy, but I hadn't. I had the exact opposite reaction actually. She was simply a mother, worrying for her son, and I was a daughter wishing nothing but safety for my parents. We were more alike than either of us was willing to admit…in the beginning.

It was different now. We had been residing together for a number of years. The first year was stiff and utterly stilted, but eventually, she warmed, as much as Narcissa Malfoy could warm. She watched me quite often, and one of our first true conversations had a tendency to replay on occasion.

"He spoke of you." Narcissa startled me while I was setting the kettle on the cooker, and I nearly shrieked.

Instead, I dropped the kettle and covered my mouth. I knew better than to cry out in Grimmauld Place. It could take hours to calm the portraits, and I'm sure neither Harry nor Ron would appreciate being roused in the dead of night.

"Who?" It was all I could muster. I was still a bit shaky. It couldn't be helped.

"My son. He's being held prisoner." I felt my lips part, and I probably looked akin to a fish, but you must realise she dropped quite the bombshell on me.

"I had…I mean, I think we all had assumed he had been…k-killed."

It had been a silent sort of pack between Harry, Ron and I. We did not discuss the missing or the dead. We couldn't spend our days mourning. We had work to do.

"I haven't consciously spoken of my son in nearly three years. I still can't believe I've resided with Harry Potter quite that long. I thought the war would be over by now. I thought…many things I'm afraid and none of them have come to fruition. It is time to take matters into my own hands. I require your assistance, Ms Granger." Narcissa Malfoy didn't waver, she barely blinked, and I was immediately drawn to her.

I needed to know more. I needed to unravel the mystery. I needed to see the pain flickering in her blue eyes…dissipate.

It became an easy habit to meet in the kitchen after everyone else had gone to bed. I took copious notes, and Narcissa never mocked me for them. It really was freeing to be able to be myself without fear of backlash or scorn.

I learned more about Draco Malfoy than I ever thought imaginable. It truly was fascinating to listen to his mother speak. I didn't know if it was the way Narcissa wove her story or my own loneliness, but I was drawn to him.

It was akin to being a princess in a fairytale, strange as it sounds. The princess is told terrifying stories of a beast in the wood, but then she stumbles across a kindred spirit, and that particular kindred spirit eases her fears and shows the princess the beast was never truly a beast. I'm not saying I'm a princess and Draco Malfoy is the beast but, bollocks, I've completely lost the plot.

Narcissa picked up on my attraction to her son rather quickly, which was more than a little embarrassing, but it wasn't as if I could refute it. I can't begin to tell you the number of times I attempted to lie to her and Narcissa would simply purse her lips, with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

I was a terrible liar. She made me practice if you can believe it. She said it would be necessary if I were to follow her plan. It scared me. I had been in danger before, but this was more than that. It is one thing to be brave, and it was another to be stupid.

"I'm still a bit shoddy on why it must be me." We were whispering, huddled beside each other in the corner of the kitchen, while Harry Floo Called with Neville.

"The cell is protected, I've already told you this…" Narcissa paused, while she listened carefully for the telltale signs of Harry's approach.

"You're not telling me something." I was getting irritated with her, and she with me. We had been together for too long, it was bound to happen.

"You haven't committed to going forth, therefore why should I bare my entire hand?" She hissed at me, and I drew away as if I had been struck. She was right, and I hated that.

"I-I was prepared to do it, actually. I was, but then…we lost Hogwarts. I was there, and it was awful. What was even worse is the fact I don't even know what happened. I suppose it's easy enough to surmise the Death Eaters used some sort of Invisibility Charm. It frightened me. If they can end the likes of Minerva McGonagall, what chance do I have? You haven't even told me how I'm to infiltrate, and I feel as though I can't put myself in that sort of danger without…I don't know. I know you can't give me a guarantee but…" I was frustrated. Narcissa had really put me on the spot, and I hadn't a chance to formulate a proper thought.

"You won't like it, Hermione, not one bit." Narcissa had only begun using my given name the past six months or so, and it still startled me.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted from the study and it sounded important. He hardly ever risked angering the portraits.

I didn't bother to excuse myself from Narcissa's company, and I was sure I would be reprimanded for my lack of manners later. Surprisingly, she followed me, tutting at the angry portraits, while yanking their curtains closed. She still refused to wear anything less than full robes, which still managed to amuse me, even in the darkest of times.

"Harry? What's wrong?" I ran to his side, throwing my arms around him, despite Narcissa snort of derision. She didn't approve of my physical relationships, though they were only of friendship. She claimed it was beneath me, which was laughable considering she still took issue with my blood.

"It's Hannah." My stomach flipped, and I instantly felt ill. I heard Harry's ragged whisper, but it took a moment for the words to make sense.

It had been almost six months since she was last seen. I had never considered the possibility of being snatched off the streets of Diagon Alley. Despite the current circumstances, I still couldn't think of it as dangerous.

Narcissa placed her hand on my shoulder, and it calmed me some. I missed my mother desperately. I missed Molly as well, but I didn't like to think about her, it hurt too much. Narcissa had somehow stepped into a motherly sort of role, at least for me.

"Is she…" I stepped away from Harry, strangely leaning into the warmth of the stiff witch behind me.

"She's alive." My knees buckled, and it was Narcissa holding me aloft.

I was never particularly close to Hannah Abbott, but I knew how much she meant to Neville. She was a member of the Order, which made her family. I couldn't bear the thought of losing any more family.

"Neville requested you or Narcissa to visit with her." Harry's eyes narrowed and the implications were clear, at least to me.

He didn't trust Hannah. He didn't want her to step foot into Headquarters until she had been properly vetted. Knowing Harry, he had offered, but of course, Neville had declined. Harry had as much subtlety as a bull in a china shop, and Hannah would need a delicate touch. There was no telling what she had been subjected to.

"Of course," Narcissa answered for me, and before I could blink, we were stepping through the Floo.

It was nearly impossible to wrap my brain around the tale Hannah Abbott had shared, but I tried. I valiantly tried. Truly, I did, but it was ridiculous, wasn't it?

"You don't believe me." Hannah sighed with such forlornness, I felt guilty.

It was Narcissa who scurried to the broken witch's side and embraced her. I felt slighted. As many years as I had spent beside the intimidating witch, she had never truly embraced me.

"It's a difficult story to swallow, especially once you consider the history between Hermione and Draco, Hannah. You can't fault her for being sceptical." Narcissa soothingly stroked Hannah's dirty blonde hair, and I felt like the odd man out.

I wanted to leave. I rose from the settee only to receive a harsh glare from Narcissa that had me sinking back down. Truthfully, I wanted to escape in order to cry, but I couldn't share that particular feeling with either of them. One would scoff at my emotionalism, and the other barely looked capable of standing without aid.

"He protected you?" I curled into the corner of the settee and drew a warm caftan over my knees as I whispered toward Hannah.

Narcissa and I had learned relatively quickly, Hannah became quite upset in the face of raised voices. She'd sent Neville away, and it was obvious she was uncomfortable sharing her plight with him present. I was prepared to hear of beatings and even rape, but no, that wasn't the way it was at all.

"I was frightened, more frightened than I'd ever been in my entire life. I thought I was going to die, but I didn't. The Snatchers, or Death Eaters, whatever they're calling themselves brought me directly to Draco's cell. He could have lied to them and seen me dragged away, but he didn't, Hermione. He didn't." Hannah climbed onto the settee next to me and stared into my eyes, imploring me to believe her, and I did.

"H-how long were you…with…him?" I didn't intend to insinuate anything untoward, but I suppose my words could have been construed as such.

"He counts the days. He said I was with him one hundred and sixty days and I have no reason to disbelieve him. He was never inappropriate if that's what you were suggesting." Hannah blushed, and I had a sneaking suspicion she had grown to have feelings for the man.

I put aside my preconceived notions and childhood distaste. It was easier than I thought it would be. I closed my eyes, nodded, and listened.

It took months, but I finally believed I had gleaned all I could from Hannah. She never tired of speaking about Draco Malfoy, and I'm sure that didn't go over particularly well with Neville. I noted the way his jaw would tighten, and he'd magically have an errand to run or an owl to write.

I knew she was keeping secrets from me, but I assumed they weren't pertinent. I never alluded such things to Harry. It was better that way. He was more than happy to allow me to take notes and provide him with tidbits of information. Anything was better than dealing with a fragile witch's tears, in his eyes.

"You care about him." I was tapping a quill against my lips, reviewing my notes, and comparing the pages to make sure I had everything just so.

"As do you, Hermione." Hannah had grown stronger since her return, and I for one was glad to see it.

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't even know him." I scoffed and resorted to ignoring Hannah for the sake of my sanity. I knew Narcissa was eavesdropping again, and I didn't want to have this conversation with either of them.

"Hermione…" I had learned to despise the condescending motherly voice Narcissa used on me. I didn't have the strength to lobby against it and always crumbled.

"It's completely illogical. I haven't the time to even entertain such a ludicrous thought." I rolled my eyes, concentrating on my parchment, only to have it snatched from the tabletop. "Please, don't do this to me."

I didn't know how to make them understand. In some ways, I was still completely inept when it came to having relationships with other women. I had only had Harry and Ron for so long, it was second nature to pretend I didn't have an emotional investment in anything. It's not as if they would have noticed.

I had complicated and romantic feelings toward Ron for years, and he'd never noticed. He never saw me as anything more than the brain that would willingly allow him to copy my notes. I was barely a girl in his eyes until it suited him I suppose. Harry was much the same way, but we had a sibling sort of relationship.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, intrigued me. He always had, even when he was spouting words of hatred and sneering at me. He was handsome in an unusual sort of way, but his intelligence was astounding. I mean, I couldn't say he was particularly studious, but even so, he was barely behind me in classes.

I had often wondered what my life would have been if I hadn't been a Muggleborn witch. I wondered as to the level of acceptance I would have achieved as a Halfblood. My daydreams often contemplated the idea. Would he have hated me then?

"I promised him I wouldn't leave him there to languish for the rest of his days. I promised. I can't keep that promise, but you can. You've got to do this. Tell her, Narcissa. I don't know what you're waiting for, but it's been long enough." Hannah was near tears, and I didn't much like that at all.

They had been planning, I could see it in Narcissa's blue eyes. She had been taking tea with Hannah on a regular basis, while I was occupied with Harry. I had a devil of a time convincing Harry to wait before searching for the last horcrux, and I was failing.

"You've been keeping secrets." I finally whispered. It was difficult to observe Narcissa and Hannah in their silent communication. I thought we were friends, but once again, I was on the outside looking in, and it hurt.

"Draco is being held prisoner in the bowels of the Manor. Of this much, you are aware. The Manor is intricately warded, yet if Draco so chose, he could vacate the premises. He chooses to remain behind to pay penance. There is also the complicated matter of the numerous witches, wizards, and Muggles, The Dark Lord has annihilated. Draco truly believes the madman will desecrate the world if he does not remain behind." Narcissa refused to meet my searing gaze and I didn't blame her.

We had lived together for nearly four years and she withheld this from me. I knew she was hiding something, but I never imagined…

"Yes, I kept it secret. I can see the disbelief and judgement in your little Gryffindor eyes. I wasn't positive I could trust you, you would have done the same if your precious Harry were at stake." It didn't take but a moment for Narcissa to return to her regal roots.

"Why is he being held…?" I struggled to make sense of it, and my eyes followed Hannah when she vacated the small sitting room relatively quickly. It sounded as though there was an argument being had near the front door to the quaint home.

"He lied for you, my dear. He knew it was you, with that hair, it was impossible not to know it was you. The Dark Lord discovered his deception, due to my sister and her devotions. He wished to Avada my son on the spot, but…Lucius intervened. He begged for Draco's life…and…offered his own. The Dark Lord was quite pleased with the replacement and declared my husband's life forfeit, to be determined at a later date, of course. The penchant for dramatics was a bit on the ridiculous side. Draco was dragged away, and I haven't laid eyes on him since." Narcissa dabbed the corner of her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Why does it have to be me? Why are you so determined to send me? I'm sure the Ministry…"

"No. You are the only witch I would trust with such secrets. The Manor will allow you to enter." I gasped, instantly distrustful, but Narcissa was quick to continue. "Strangely enough, it is your blood status that made the choice for me." We ignored the scuffle in the foyer, and I was clinging to her every word. "During the Final Battle, my husband was killed. I almost thought my family would survive intact, but The Dark Lord was absolutely furious. I had promised to produce Draco, and Lucius vehemently objected. He went so far as to alter the wards. I cannot step foot into Malfoy Manor. From what I've managed to glean from eavesdropping, it seems not even Halfbloods are able to pass, but knowing the pompous nature of my husband and The Dark Lord, I am positive the Manor is not warded against Muggleborns."

I nodded, slowly, allowing this new information to sink in. It made sense if I was being honest with myself. Of course, Voldemort wouldn't bother to think of Muggleborns. He considered us beneath him. He considered everyone beneath him, which I still believed was an absolutely ludicrous thought.

Personally, I believed his hatred stemmed from his childhood. Tom Riddle was nothing more than a powerful, yet petulant child. He was throwing the world's biggest temper tantrum and destroying everything in his path because his mother was barmy and his father deserted him.

I often wondered how Harry had turned out as well as he did. He could have easily embraced hatred, due to the deplorable Dursleys, but he hadn't. I don't know what sort of place the world would be if Harry had joined forces with Voldemort, but I detested even entertaining the thought.

"You don't know! Maybe she was a Death Eater slag!" I cringed upon hearing Ron's obnoxious shout from the other room and hurried toward the sound.

Ron was red-faced and furious, as he continuously shouted in Neville Longbottom's face, while Hannah silently cried beside Harry. I didn't know what started the row, but the boys were moments from drawing wands. I wanted to intervene and attempt to calm them, but Narcissa's fingers dug into my shoulders.

"Take it back." Neville hissed, drawing up to his full height, which almost rivalled Ron's.

"That was a bit much, mate," Harry mumbled and I glowered at him, while he pretended I was invisible.

"No, it wasn't much at all. She was gone for almost half a year! She comes back and spends all her time with the Death Eater Widow and Hermione the Sympathizer. We have a right to know…" Ron snarled at me, and I wasn't expecting the intensity of his distaste.

Neville struck him then, and I should have been more surprised than I was. It was quite a punch and I was sure we could all hear the crack of knuckles against jaw. Ron's head flung to the right and struck the wall.

I could have easily escaped Narcissa's clutches. I could have cast a spell to separate them. I could have done many things, but I did nothing. I simply stood there and watched Neville and Ron roll around on the floor, missing more punches than they were landing.

"I'll do it," I whispered to Narcissa, knowing in my heart of hearts, it was the right thing to do.

It took another six months to properly plan, and by that point, Harry and Ron were barely speaking to me. I couldn't tell them the truth. I couldn't tell them of the plan Narcissa and I had devised to rescue her son, their greatest enemy, besides Voldemort.

They were keeping secrets as well, and I knew it had everything to do with the missing horcrux. They were intending on leaving me behind, and one morning, they did just that. I should have seen it coming, but I was a little blindsided by their abrupt departure.

They were going to get themselves killed.


	6. 6 - Bellatrix

My poor, dearest love is suffering. I do hate to see him suffer. It's not his fault. It's that Potter boy. It's always that Potter boy. He's always ruining my love's deepest desires. He's always thwarting my love's plans. I hate him. I can't wait until my love rises to his former glory. I can't wait to see him tear that insipid little boy to pieces. I can't wait to dance in Harry Potter's blood.

I wish I had been by his side from the very beginning. I would have done anything for him. I'd still do anything for him. I renounced my husband for my lord, for my love, and if he asked? I'd renounce my life as well.

He really is a cunning wizard. The best that has ever been and ever will be. He carefully manipulated everyone that has ever crossed his path. I suppose he manipulates me as well, but I don't mind.

Harry Potter, the bane of his existence, the orphan Half-blood, thought he could best The Dark Lord. Children oughtn't play adult games, but no one had bothered to inform those insufferable little Gryffindors.

I was positively gleeful when My Dark Lord had included me in his plans to conceal Nagini from prying eyes. He loved that snake almost as much as he loved me. My Lord didn't tell me all the details, but they're only details. They don't matter as long as My Lord is pleased.

He almost trusted my sister, can you imagine my horror? I tolerate my sister, but she's not nearly as important as I am. I gladly served in Azkaban for the simple pleasure of being in His company, and what did she do? She did nothing, absolutely nothing.

She remained mute, and beside her poor excuse of a husband. They are nothing. They don't love The Dark Lord the way I do. No one does, and I was beyond certain if it weren't for that pesky little husband of mine, I would be The Dark Lord's bride.

Of course, I took care of Rodolphus soon enough. I am capable of my own bouts of manipulation. I am Slytherin after all, and I should be applauded as such.

When My Lord called upon his faithful servants, I was on my knees, begging for the opportunity to prove myself. The moment his long fingers grazed my wild black hair, I was a puddle of want. He truly was a wizard after my own heart.

I would give it to him if he asked. I had no qualms with tearing it from my chest and gifting it to him on a silver platter decorated with tiny sculptures of deceased Muggles. I'm sure that would bring Him much pleasure.

"I require a volunteer." I shivered with delight, and my skin peppered with goose flesh that made me feel alive.

"My Lord," I was always demure in his presence and knelt at his feet. "I would be grateful to accept this task." I was breathing heavily from the exertion of keeping my desires firmly in place.

"Ah, Bellatrix, my most devoted servant. Whatever would I do without you? I'm afraid I require someone…expendable." His bony fingertip touched my cheek and I quivered, my fingers were fisting the black satin of my torn dress. His touch spoke volumes, and I knew I would be properly rewarded…later. "Whom do you suggest?"

"Rodolphus hasn't been particularly active, My Lord. Perhaps his loyalties are waning. This would be a perfect opportunity to prove himself to you." I batted my dark lashes innocently, refusing to even glance upon my disgusting excuse of a husband.

He hadn't been my choice. No one had bothered to ask me if I wanted a husband, but such is the plight of Pureblood witches, and even I was not immune. It wasn't long after my nuptials that My Dark Lord rose to power, and I lamented every moment I spent beside Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Delightful. I'm sure Rodolphus will not refuse." My Lord paused, indicating I should rise from my knees, which I did post-haste. "Your reward, my dear, devious Bellatrix…" His hot breath against my skin caused me to close my eyes with bated breath. "Later, I shall allow you to...pleasure yourself…on my cock."

I barely recalled the remainder of the Death Eater gathering. I was concentrating on my reward. You can't blame me. It's not like it was a secret that I wanted Him. I always wanted Him, and I want Him still.

I can't have Him now, not in the capacity I wish, but that changes nothing. I am still completely devoted to Him, despite His lack of proper form. He doesn't care if I utilise various Death Eaters for my personal release, as long as I'm thinking of Him, and I am. I always think of Him.

I can't tell you how terrifying it was to watch My Love battle with Harry Potter. I wasn't afraid My Love would lose, but I did fear for his safety. I had run off and had a bit of fun within Hogwarts, and I felt guilty for it.

Oh, I didn't care a wit about casting the Killing Curse. I barely recall the numerous witches and wizards I killed in His Name. It is War and no one survives unscathed.

I did relish one particular moment of glee, I must say. That horrid, fat, poor witch, the red-haired one? Do you know of whom I speak? Of course, you do. Molly Weasley, I do believe was her name.

Her daughter was being a right pain in the arse. I had dispatched a few members of the Order, my traitorous niece amongst them, when I spied her. She was fighting hard, and I thought nothing would be better than hexing her.

Fatty McWeasley intervened quickly. I was stunned by her adeptness. I wasn't expecting her to be proficient, but I was better. She made me angry. I am not a bitch. No one gets to call me a bitch and live. Therefore, I killed her. It was exhilarating, to say the least.

My nephew on the other hand, well I suppose it is time we discuss him. I'd rather not if I had the choice, but he really is part of the problem. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa, Slytherin, and a member of the Inner Circle, had lied to Lord Voldemort.

I can barely speak such a thing without shuddering. I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than lie to My Lord, and yet that banal child had dared to speak against my Lord. A lie was a betrayal, an unforgivable betrayal, and I would have gladly struck him down, but My Lord refused.

I still don't understand why Draco would betray us all for the sake of a Mudblood. She's nothing. She's dirt. She's a motherfucking liar and a thief. She's not worthy of her magic, and yet Draco Lucius Malfoy lied for her.

My only solace, which was minuscule at best, was hearing the stupid little elf had died. I wasn't aiming for the elf. I was aiming for the Mudblood, but a death is a death, I suppose. Much the way filth is filth, and elves and Mudbloods are definitely filth.

Draco's lie wounded My Lord. I secretly believed it wounded Him more than He would like to admit. I could never speak such words to Him, but I am capable of thinking them.

Yes, Harry Potter attempted to duel with My Lord, but the child relied upon a first year spell. I don't know what the boy was expecting to happen. Did he really think a simple Expelliarmus would injure the Greatest Wizard of All Time? Harry Potter had always been a little fool, and his choice of spells proved it fact.

I don't know what happened, but in the end, Harry Potter wasn't dead and My Dark Lord was nearly transparent. What the fuck sort of madness is that? There wasn't anything I could do about it, though I was properly pleased to watch Lucius Malfoy fall.

There was something satisfying knowing my sister's husband's life was forfeit. It served her right. Her son should have taken the spell, but a life is a life, and one is just the same as the other. Such a shame Lucius didn't beg or plead. No, he stood there with a glint in his grey eyes, seemingly pleased with himself.

My sister was a shrieking banshee, and I had cackled in the face of her distress. I always enjoyed the distress of others. It soothed me in ways nothing else could. My Lord often told me I was sadistic, and I preened. I swear I once heard Him declare it wasn't a compliment, but I was absolutely positive I had misheard.

My Lord hadn't lost himself until after He had paid little Draco Malfoy a visit in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. I knew my traitor nephew couldn't have invoked the slightest bit of magic against The Dark Lord, but something had happened. Draco had already been blinded, weakened even by their first skirmish, and even so, Lord Voldemort was reduced to barely more than a hissing ghost. Don't tell Him I said that.

He hasn't regained a bit of His strength. His Death Eaters are a force of nature, gladly wreaking havoc, and doing His bidding, but to what end? What is the point of it, if you can't wander about aimlessly casting the Killing Curse toward people you don't like?

He declared Muggles off-limits. I mean honestly, what the fuck is the point of being wicked if we can't kill a few Muggles? Yes, I'm well aware, we killed more than a few, but who cares? They're just Muggles.

I've heard some whisperings. I don't like what I'm hearing, but sometimes I can't help but to wonder. They say He's afraid. Something questionable must occur during his sporadic meetings with my nephew, but He never allows anyone to attend.

Draco is a prisoner. What sort of power could he wield? He's practically an orphan. He's wandless. He's blind. He's confined. It's not even a bit of fun to use him for spell practice!

I was conversing with Greyback just the other day, and he said Draco couldn't even be bothered to fight back any longer. You would think if there were a hulking werewolf shoving his man bits up your bum, you'd fight back. Then again, Draco was always a smart lad, and perhaps he finally learned how much Greyback enjoys the struggle.

I don't know. I don't like to think of it. I think it's revolting, which is saying quite a lot, considering my predilections.

I snatched the bald witch. I knew she was a member of the Order, but I didn't care. I was so fucking bored. I just wanted to have a bit of fun.

Mr Crankypants disagreed and just gave her Draco. She was mine! I was going to teach her to play fetch. Sometimes a girl needs a reprieve from all the blood, dismemberment, and murder talk. Especially if said girl is unable to pleasure herself on her Love's cock because He doesn't currently have one.

Well, that's not entirely true. I suppose He has one, but it's not as if it's usable. It's sort of…transparent, which would be fine. However, I can't feel it, so it's useless. It makes me wonder how many women in the world suffer from the plight of being unable to feel their lover's cock. Hmmm.

I know, I'm being obsessive. I can't help it. I've had the best, and nothing else will do. It helps a bit when My Love decides to watch. It aids me in proper pretending. He loves me, I know he does. If He didn't, He wouldn't have invented a delightful spell to take over another's body.

He did it for me. Never mind the fact He missed feeling wizardly. My Lord and Lover missed wedging Himself between my welcoming thighs. I couldn't wait to feel Him thrust into me, and slap my arse until I was begging for relief.

I didn't care about His ultimate plan. I know, that's absolutely horrid of me, but I'm bored. We've won, what else is there to do? Personally, I'd prefer reclining upon a feather four-poster with leather cords binding my limbs, but apparently, my preferences were unimportant, and I was being selfish. Can you imagine the horror?

I am underappreciated. I had planned on gallivanting about to snatch a witch or torture a Muggle, but I was summoned. I took my fucking time readying myself, I'll tell you that much. I bathed, washed my hair, and spread silky soft oils into my skin. I dressed in my best black lace dress, and I even put on knickers.

"What now?!" I shouted a fair bit seeing Greyback and a wizard I didn't recognise conversing softly in the Manor Drawing Room.

"Bella…" The unknown wizard's voice hissed lightly across the room, much like a sensual whisper, and I knew that wizard was My Love.

My thighs quivered and my knees shook as I lowered myself to the floor. I bowed my head and held my breath. I fully expected punishment but was rewarded with a gentle caress over my long, dark, tresses.

"M-my Lord." I stuttered, feeling regret for being so angry earlier.

"Come." He reached down and grasped my shoulder, His borrowed fingernails were digging into the lace of my black dress, and I gasped.

I honestly believed this was it. I was finally going to be fulfilled, and I could barely contain myself. I was floating on a cloud filled with orgasmic dreams until we stepped into the dungeon.

"What the fuck is this?!" I shouted and I wasn't even sorry.

Here I thought I was finally going to be fucked right and proper, and He brings me to the fucking dungeons? I couldn't even pretend to contain my disgust. I dutifully followed Him, and then we were looking in on my traitor nephew.

"Bring me the girl." My Lord hissed and carefully pointed to the shivering lump in the darkened corner of the cell.

I didn't want to go in there. I was finally clean. I might dirty myself by stepping into the vicinity of such filth, but I couldn't deny Him.

I hesitated, of course, I did. I should have minded my manners. I shouldn't have shouted at Him. I shouldn't have dallied preparing myself.

I reached forward and lightly fingered the rusting bars of my nephew's cage. This was a mistake. I felt as though the air was crushed from my lungs, and my head was spinning. I was certain I had been hurled across the room and slammed into the stone behind me, but I hadn't.

"Again." My Love growled at me. At me! He was angry with me, and I suppose I deserved it, but there were better ways to punish me.

"My Lord…"

"AGAIN!"

I did as I was told, and I felt His hard body behind mine, which did nothing. He forced my fingers to encircle the cold, hard iron, and I whimpered. The jolt was excruciating, and still, He held my fingers in place.

I could barely breathe as I felt I was being pummelled from the interior and exterior. There were tears, actual tears leaking from my large eyes, and yet I could not close them. I could not do anything but stand there and take my punishments. I wished I were dead, and I knew it was only the beginning.

When He finally released me, I barely managed to retain the ability to stand. If it had been anyone else I would have sagged against them, but I didn't have that luxury when dealing with My Dark Lord. He would have viewed such a thing as weakness, and I couldn't afford to be viewed as weak, not during these trying, deliciously Dark Times.

"Shall I continue, or have you learned your lesson, Pet?" He was stroking my hair, and while I could feel the prisoner's eyes boring into me, I refused to lift my head.

"It was…wrong of me." I choked on the words, but He didn't seem especially attentive to my intonation.

"Hmm, yes, yes it was. My loyal followers cannot even enjoy themselves with her, as she's already been tainted. They were most displeased. You know how Greyback prefers his witches, don't you, my Pet?" My Love held me close, and I wanted to relax my guard, but I was still wary. There was no telling what He would do at any given moment. It was better to be prepared.

"I do, My Lord. I…I shall not make such an error again." I sunk to my knees, in a prone position I knew He would appreciate and I waited. It was foolish to snatch the bald witch, but as I said, I was bored.

How was I to know she had already been plundered? I don't know who would do such a thing. It's not as though she was particularly pretty or anything, but I suppose that doesn't matter. Greyback wasn't the sort of…person to be particular. Hell, I knew he had abused my nephew on more than one occasion, but when it came to his witches, pure was the only choice.

"Rise, and scurry to your room. I shall pay you a visit…momentarily." My skin was humming again, but it had more to do with the fact He stroked across my aching breast than His words.

Gods, I needed this. I needed Him. No one else would ever do, believe you me, I had tried. It didn't matter My Lord wasn't capable of utilising His own body. I didn't care if He was reduced to borrowing others bodies until the end of time, as long as He fucked me.

It wasn't His body. It was the silky whispers, and the way He fisted my hair. It was the way He moved. The way He touched me. The way He bent me over the side of the bed and…well, you get the point.


	7. 7 - The Narrator

The Battle of Hogwarts was the sort of battle that would go down in history, but not for the reasons you'd think. It was a dark and terrible time, and the Light desperately needed a sliver of hope to cling to. They clung to the idea of Harry James Potter being their Saviour, but something went wrong.

The remaining witches and wizards were confused, hurt, and even angry by the occurrences. They didn't understand why the Death Eaters refused to surrender. They didn't understand why there was still so much unrest, and who could explain it to them?

Surely not Harry Potter, as even, he did not understand. There were so many questions that demanded answers, but the answers could not be found in the mutterings of confusion. No, they required deep thought and copious research. There was truly only one person suited for the job, and Hermione Granger took to task.

Unfortunately, she was no longer available to her counterparts, which caused great bouts of consternation between them. The Golden Trio was fractured, through circumstance more than anything else. Such was the way in war.

The Order of the Phoenix had a difficult time holding Hogwarts. It was an insurmountable task, and they managed for quite a while with their depleted numbers. It was impressive. Their passion, their heart, their unequivocal love for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was what fueled them, but it wasn't enough.

Voldemort might very well be nothing more than a ghost, to put it lightly, but his mind was still intact. While he absolutely refused to leave the safe confines of Malfoy Manor, he had no objections to sending others to do his dirty work. Thus began his work to thwart Harry Potter.

It was Harry's fault really, that Voldemort invested so much time seeking to destroy the arrogant little wizard. It wasn't enough to have the Elder Wand. He used the waning remnants of his humanity to keep it firmly clutched in his transparent fist. His current state was more than simple deep shame. It was a testament to the power of love, and well the Dark Lord couldn't abide such things. They were detestable to him.

The Invisibility Cloak, passed down through generations from the Peverell brothers, was the sort of magic he craved. While Voldemort knew obtaining the cloak was nearly impossible, it didn't abate his obsession. It didn't take him long, considering he was quite talented. His former professors would have been proud of him, had they survived.

The spell wasn't perfect, and it didn't last nearly as long as he wished, but it was enough to retake Hogwarts. Voldemort's Death Eaters had marked through the hidden passages and blasted their way into their former school. The Dark Lord had muted them, so they might not divulge their locations, as they weren't the brightest bunch of wizards to walk the earth.

They were supposed to deliver the Mudblood, but they failed. He shouldn't have been surprised. They would fucking fail at breathing if it wasn't an automatic bodily function. Voldemort despised them with every fibre of his being, but he needed them. He was a shell, nearly a waste, barely anything more than that blasted apparition Nearly Headless Nick.

His Death Eaters had gifted him a memory, and gods be damned he adored diving into the Pensieve again, and again to relive the moment. Especially now that Harry Potter and his Order had regained his most precious asset. It soothed his bad temper to see the mayhem they had caused.

"I really need access to those books, Headmistress." Hermione Granger, with her riotous curls sufficiently tamed in a makeshift bun, sat across from her former Professor, all prim and proper.

"Ms Granger, I am not one to discourage anyone from the pursuit of knowledge, however, the Restricted Section is restricted for a very good reason and…" Headmistress McGonagall was weary of the same conversations with her brilliant former student, but she knew the girl was persistent, as well as stubborn.

"Yes, I realise that, however, I am no longer a student, and the Hogwarts library is the only place that houses these particular books. If we've any hope of destroying Voldemort, I need more information." It was obvious Hermione was desperate.

"The knowledge you seek is not housed within the library any longer, Ms Granger. We couldn't take the chance that someone else would seek to do what Tom once did. I must speak with the School Governors before I can allow you access. I'll appeal to their sense of greater good." McGonagall lips spread into a small tight smile, and it was gone so quickly, Hermione wondered if she had seen it in the first place.

Her lips parted, as if to thank the Headmistress, but the castle groaned. The walls trembled slightly, and small streams of water began to cascade down the stonewalls and puddled on the floor. Hermione leapt to her feet, immediately on the offensive, but Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was faster than lightning.

She was attuned to the needs of the castle, and the magic had been breached. She could hear the murmurings of the portraits and observed the way they vacated their frames. She knew they were in danger, and Minerva also knew she was expendable.

The fire of determination flared in her eyes, and she flicked her wand, barring Hermione's attempts to leave the office. The Invisible Death Eater standing against the wall nearly grasped the Muggleborn witch, but Minerva was faster. She hurled Hermione toward the Floo, wincing as the girl slid across the ground and landed beneath her desk.

She couldn't see the intruder, and regardless of all the Revelio spells she cast, the intruder remained hidden. Minerva McGonagall was never fond of Dark Magic, to put it lightly. She was a formidable witch, but when the enemy was Cloaked with Dark Magic Invisibility, her chances of survival were slim. She knew this. She accepted this, and still, she fought.

Minerva's magic swirled around the Headmaster's office, effortlessly upending the furniture as it sent her cup of tea hurtling through the air. The hot, sweet liquid met its mark, and she was rewarded with a yelp of immense pain. The brown liquid quickly ran rivulets down the thin, wiry Death Eater, and that's when she struck.

"Stupefy!" She bellowed, offering a quick, yet satisfied harrumph when the boy fell.

She contemplated more but decided to attend to Hermione. As the Headmistress of Hogwarts, her students were her utmost concern, and such things didn't alter due to a students' completion of studies.

McGonagall's hat toppled from her head, as she pulled Hermione Granger from beneath her desk.

"You should have let me help you. I'm not some poor damsel in distress and I…"

"Ms Granger, we haven't the time to discuss your riveting dissertation concerning feminism. In case it has slipped your attention, I am a witch as well, and last I checked, I needn't the aid of children to defend myself. This is an attack on Hogwarts, and I will not allow more casualties than necessary." Minerva McGonagall pursed her thin lips and dared the girl to refute her words.

Hermione stood and brushed the lingering specks of dust from her skirt. She was fully prepared to stand her ground, to defend the first place she had ever felt that she belonged. Instead, she was shoved into the Floo, and just before the green flames spun her away to Grimmauld Place, yet another Death Eater stepped into the room. She watched Headmistress Minerva McGonagall fall, with tears in her eyes as the green flames spun her toward home.

Voldemort delighted in Headmistress McGonagall's death. He had berated Theodore Nott for failing to secure the Mudblood immediately. It wasn't long after, Theo Nott was the perfect little puppet, as most witches and wizards were, while being subjected to the Imperious Curse. Voldemort didn't waste his precious time with such things. He delegated, like any good leader.

What he needed, truly needed, was his last remaining horcrux. He had hidden it well, which was an asset, yet also a detriment. Voldemort knew Harry Potter and his little entourage would have difficulty locating it, yet he was unable to travel freely to retrieve it. He also could not send any of his loyal followers to bring it to him.

The enchantments he has used to keep Nagini safe would kill anyone else that sought to retrieve her. Voldemort had always known The Order of the Phoenix had overestimated Harry Potter's abilities, and their shouts of triumph had been a testament to such. Fools! They hadn't the slightest idea Nagini was safely hidden in Little Hangleton, and it would take an exceptional wizard to discern her whereabouts.

Frank Bryce was long dead and gone. His cottage, however, was still quite intact. It truly was the perfect place to hide something precious. The villagers were not apt to go wandering about Bryce's property, nor that of the Riddles. The old rumours kept them all at bay, which was exactly what Voldemort required.

The magic within the walls of Hogwarts, revitalised Voldemort. Not to mention the Forbidden Forest was tauntingly close at hand. He was absolutely positive he could cajole, read Imperious, an unwilling young Death Eater to venture into the Forest and procure him a unicorn. They really were delicious this time of year.

Unfortunately, his forces hadn't managed to hold Hogwarts particularly long, and Voldemort had barely begun contemplating the move to his below par, former school, when poor Theodore Nott reported the news. He had raged for hours, but it did nothing really. The School was lost once again, and Voldemort was nearly back where he started.

He had learned important bits of information. They caused his lip to curl, and he abjectly refused to speak of them, but sometimes, while he was entertaining himself with Bellatrix, he would speak.

"I'm enormously tired of hearing my Death Eaters whispering about the power of love. Love! As if love can save them from their fate! As if love, will keep me from doing exactly what I was born to do!" The Dark Lord pretended he was capable of rest and closed his ruby eyes.

"My love," Bellatrix interjected quite carefully. "Lucius Malfoy's love did…sort of…damn you to your current state. You…did have form, prior to killing him." Bellatrix choked on the words, but she was compelled to speak them.

"Lucius Malfoy!" Voldemort snarled and snapped his teeth. "He never loved anything! He simply…he simply utilised magicks to foil me. I will prevail. I always prevail."

Bellatrix Lestrange remained silent, as it would never do to express her scepticism. She knew her sister and her awful husband had attempted to thwart the Dark Lord, but she never believed they'd be remotely successful. It was lunacy to suggest such a thing, and yet, the wizard she worshipped was essentially a fucking ghost.

"My lord, do you think you would have kept your form…if you hadn't…attempted to punish my incorrigible nephew?" Bellatrix batted her sooty lashes heavily, and slowly paced the exorbitant bedchamber.

"Blood magicks are despicable magic." Voldemort moved through the four-poster bed and lingered near the outer wall.

"Purebloods have utilised such magic for centuries, my love." Bellatrix crooned, but her words only exacerbated the situation, which didn't bode particularly well for her.

Despite the Dark Lord's current state, his magic had not waned, at least within the walls of Malfoy Manor. He spun easily, and Bellatrix yelped as a Stinging Hex was cast at her arse. She knew better than to retort, but her dark eyes blazed with unmatched fury.

It wasn't her fault the Darkest Wizard to walk the earth since Grindelwald was a bloody Half-Blood. Bellatrix was haughty, spoiled, and made no excuses for such. She believed if anyone should have known about the binding of Blood Magicks, it should be Lord Voldemort. Apparently, he disagreed.

Lord Voldemort wasn't nearly as entertaining as he used to be, at least that's what Bellatrix Lestrange believed. She was tired of entertaining herself with random Death Eaters. She longed for bloodshed. She longed for war, but she couldn't have those things until her Lord had a body to call his own.

"The Nott boy, is he still simpering about?" Tom Riddle twirled the wand that nearly took his life, with careful contemplation.

"Of course, he's waiting in the wings with bated breath to do your bidding." Bellatrix tossed her dark curls over her shoulder and willed her sister's roses to die as she glared out the window.

"As well he should. Send for him. He failed me, and I'm bored."

Bellatrix did as she was told, and just managed to squelch the revulsion that rippled through her emaciated body when her Lord walked through the wall. She truly detested when he did that. It nearly ruined her voracious sexual appetites, nearly.

Theodore Nott, on the other hand, was not thinking of Voldemort. He wasn't thinking of anything at all. In fact, he was simply staring at the wall, waiting for his next instruction. He barely blinked when Bellatrix touched his shoulder.

"You're really quite pathetic, aren't you?" Bellatrix sighed and dragged the boy to the Drawing Room.

She knew Lord Voldemort did his best work within the confines of the dark, foreboding Drawing Room. There were moments when she wondered if he drew his strength from the Dark Magic laced into the room, but she would never ask. She considered walking through the Manor door and creating her own chaos in the Wizarding World for a moment. It wasn't as though her Master could stop her.

"Hmm yes, here he is. Bella dear, why don't you catch yourself a bit of…fresh air?" The Dark Lord's glittering red eyes never wavered from Nott, but the implication was clear.

Bellatrix smiled and even cackled loudly with a glee she hadn't felt in years. She lifted her ragged lace and tulle skirts and ran for the door of the Manor. She snapped her fingers and a few nameless underlings scurried after her. The lunatic had been set loose, Merlin help Wizardingkind.

There was something to be said for the magicks Tom Riddle didn't quite understand. Of course, he'd never admit to such things. He refused to accept his lack of knowledge and simply responded with the rage befitting of his station as the Dark Lord.

Malfoy Manor had stood since the first Malfoy had requisitioned the properties long before Merope Gaunt had even been born, let alone conceived her son. Considering young Tom Riddle had been raised in an orphanage of Muggles, how was he to know the powers surrounding Blood Magicks?

If his mother had never bewitched Tom Riddle Sr., the Dark Lord never would have existed, which would have saved Wizardingkind from his rampage, however, what was done, was done. A poor, half-blood wizard with a thirst for power and an evilness unmatched rose from the bowels of the forgotten. Albus Dumbledore sought to save the boy, and perhaps the misguided wizard saw bits and piece of himself in Tom, yet Dumbledore was no angel in his youth.

It could almost be safe to assume, if Albus Dumbledore had continued on his path with Grindelwald, that particular duo could have rivalled Lord Voldemort's decimation. Thankfully, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts saw the error of his ways in the face of tragedy. He gave forth a valiant effort to lead young Tom away from the darkness, but honestly, it was too late.

It had been born in him. Perhaps it was due to his genetics. Perhaps it was due to life circumstances. Perhaps, it was due to a desperate need for acceptance, a way to harness the hatred for a Muggle man he'd never truly known. There are no answers as far as Lord Voldemort is concerned, but one thing is certain.

He is not a Pureblood wizard, and as such, he would never have had access to the ancestral spell books passed down through the generations. Despite all his best efforts, Tom never would have uncovered magic he never would have been able to use.

When King William granted Armand Malfoy the piece of land that would become Malfoy Manor, Armand immediately set to work. The former landowners were Muggles, and that would never do. Armand utilised his vast knowledge to implement the perfect spells in order to dissuade Muggles from stepping in the vicinity of his sanctuary.

The stones of the Manor were imbued with centuries old magic, bound with his blood. Armand recorded his findings, his experiences, and his life's work in a leather-bound journal, embossed with gold lettering. It was revered by the Malfoy family and kept in a place of honour.

It was the only source of amusement the Malfoy's entertained, while they could. Voldemort had often walked passed the Malfoy Book of Spells, raging against anyone in the vicinity. Would the Dark Lord have been able to defeat Harry Potter if he had held the Malfoy book in his hands? Probably not, but it amused Lucius Malfoy to believe so.

In fact, Draco Malfoy often wondered if his father was happily chortling in the depths of hell. The poor boy had to occupy himself somehow, now didn't he? It wouldn't have made much difference in the end, not really.

Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord, was still nothing more than a half-blood wizard, with a childish vendetta of hate, due to his lacking childhood. He wouldn't have been able to access a single spell, let alone open the snake engraved cover. He would have destroyed many things during the midst of his temper tantrum, and still accomplished nothing.

He would still be barely corporeal. He would still be more than capable of walking through walls and sinking through furniture. Most importantly, he would not be able to leave Malfoy Manor, despite his best efforts and appropriate fury.

The world had never been safer. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Those pesky Death Eaters were still lurking about, but the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry for Magic were diligently capturing them, when they could. The bastardly minions had grown by leaps and bounds, in terms of their magic, and had proven to be quite elusive. It was quite a source of contention for not only the Ministry but for Harry Potter as well.

Their stronghold in Hogsmeade had collapsed the moment the Order regained Hogwarts. It truly was a constant push and pull, as far as the Wizarding School was concerned. Each party felt holding Hogwarts was the beginning of the end. They were both wrong. It was nothing of the sort. It was a show of machismo and bravado, which quite honestly, had nothing to do with defeating Voldemort or Harry Potter.

The bond between the two rivals was nearly broken. It had more to do with Tom Riddle's current state than the destruction of the horcruxes. In fact, there was one remaining horcrux hidden away, and it was up to Harry Potter to discover its whereabouts.

Narcissa Malfoy and Hermione Granger had spent many hours together within the walls of Grimmauld Place, poring over tomes. They bonded through secrets, whispers, and the written word, much the way the Golden Trio was formed.

"Your hair isn't nearly as horrid as my son said it was." Narcissa slammed yet another book closed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I'm sure he exaggerated everything." Hermione sunk into the lumpy green sofa and pressed her fingertips to her temples.

"I hope he didn't, considering how often he railed against your brilliance. If you aren't half as intelligent as Draco believed you to be," Narcissa paused and pursed her lips, "we're succinctly fucked."

"You've been spending too much time around Weasleys." Hermione shook her head, and her troublesome curls brushed against her cheeks.

"You wouldn't guess it, but Arthur has a tendency to say the filthiest things while we're…"

"Please, stop. They're rubbing off on you. I think I preferred it when Harry truly believed you had a wand firmly lodged in your arse." Hermione stood and stretched her arms over her head, wincing as her elbows popped in the silence.

"If you're captured by Death Eaters, they'll do unspeakable things to you…if you're a virgin." Narcissa altered the conversation to suit her needs with a small sigh.

"Cissa, why are you telling me that of all things? Don't we have more important things to worry about? I know what will happen to me if I'm captured. I have no delusions, I'm as good as dead." Hermione tossed her hands into the air and resisted the urge to pull her hair from its roots.

"Abraxus," Narcissa continued on, as though Hermione had not spoken. "His belief systems were…skewed, to put it lightly. He didn't believe a woman should be touched if she had been sullied by another man. Hannah Abbott was not a virgin upon her capture, and while I was concerned for her safety to a certain extent, I knew the Death Eaters would not ravish her. I can't say the same for you, unless of course, you've been sneaking off to Mr Weasley's room…" Narcissa's words hung in the air, and she patiently waited for Hermione's response.

"No, I haven't…I don't want…I don't feel…that way about Ron. I-I mean I used to, at least I thought I did, but it's different now." Hermione grasped her thick curls and twisted them on top of her head, before she thrust a quill into the mess to keep it aloft.

"I suspected as much. The Weasley twins gifted me Extendable Ears. They're an innovative invention and have allowed me to hear that which I probably shouldn't. Mr Weasley often laments to Harry his inability to understand your reticence. I do have it on good authority that you've engaged in a bit of kissing, however." Narcissa Malfoy smiled at the blushing witch, with affection.

"Once! It was one time! We thought we were going to die! It was a heat of the moment sort of thing, but everything I thought I felt completely fizzled in that moment, and I wish it was the same for Ron. Gods, I wish it was the same." Hermione paced the small study, and Narcissa almost regretted upsetting the girl.

"Mr Weasley is of the opinion that you're quite…smitten with my son." Narcissa carefully watched the fleeting emotions cross Hermione's face, and she had her answer.

"That's ridiculous. We're in the midst of a war. We've got loads of work to do, and Merlin knows, those two aren't going to be a bit of help as far as research is concerned. I'll go and set the kettle on, I can't believe it's this late already. We've barely put a dent in that stack of books. We're going to be here all night." Hermione rushed toward the door, but Narcissa spoke, and the younger witch paused.

"Will you not entertain the idea of formulating a plan…in case?" Narcissa probed gently, her voice low.

"No. I won't. I'll be careful. I won't get caught." Hermione barely glanced over her shoulder, and then she was gone.

"Her cockiness is going to be her downfall." Narcissa Malfoy mused quietly, as she mentally compared her arrogant son to the arrogant Muggle-born witch. The differences were subtle at best, which just so happened to amuse the Malfoy Matriarch to no end.

She would regret not pushing the issue with Hermione Granger. She would regret being unable to save the girl from the horrors of the Manor. Narcissa Malfoy was not one to linger on regret, yet for Hermione Granger…she would.


	8. 8 - Harry

I can't believe she's gone. I can't believe she would just desert us without a word. I can't believe she actually believed we'd left her behind, and I can't help wondering if she's dead now.

It was just a quick reconnaissance mission. It was off-books, but Hermione would understand I couldn't just let that information sit on the Minister's desk. I had to pursue it. I knew no one else was going to pay it any mind, and it was important.

I needed a modicum of separation. I was tired of being sent on useless Auror missions that did nothing other than get me out of the way. I was tired of listening to the whisperings in my own kitchen in the middle of the night. I was tired of hearing Hermione and Narcissa bond over Draco Malfoy.

Ron's explosive row with Neville was unfortunate, but it provided us with the opportunity to skip out for a bit. I didn't have to say a word to Ron. We had perfected the art of silent communication.

Now that I think about it, I saw it in her face. There was a moment while Ron and Neville were throwing punches and shouting at each other. I tore my gaze away from them and spied Hermione standing eerily close to Narcissa. She had faraway look in her eyes, which alerted me to the simple fact, Hermione was thinking.

She was always thinking these days, but it was a calculated sort of expression, and that wasn't like her. Hermione Granger was always the sort of witch to refer to her library of boring books and leave rushing into the fray to me. I saw her lips move, and then the overwhelming relief etched in Narcissa's stoic features before she hid her feelings behind her practised façade.

I should have done something. I should have taken the time to speak with her, but I was distracted. I allowed Ron's personal issues with the Malfoys to take precedence, and that was a problem. I was constantly caught between my two best mates, and I realise now, I do have a tendency to choose Ron.

I can't imagine that makes Hermione feel particularly welcome and appreciated. She is, of course, she is, but you have to understand it's different with blokes. Hermione is a bit stuffy, and never truly understood the allure of burping the alphabet and out farting one another.

I'm making excuses, and I shouldn't. Hermione is family, and we left her behind without a word. I honestly thought she wouldn't notice. I must admit I was feeling a bit jealous. I'm an arse.

"Harry?" That soft soothing voice broke into my thoughts, and I felt my entire body relax.

I didn't get to see her nearly as much as I would have liked. It was dangerous and I wanted to protect her. Since Hermione's disappearance, she had taken to sneaking through my Floo after her dad set off for the Ministry.

"You shouldn't be here." I sighed, as I struggled to sit up in the four-poster bed. I had taken to sleeping in Sirius's bedroom. It made me feel close to him, in a strange sort of way.

"You always say that, but you never send me away." I swung my feet to the floor and shoved my spectacles onto my nose.

My mouth fell open and I blinked heavily. Ginny usually hovered in the doorjamb and I would join her in the sitting room or the kitchen. We'd managed a few stolen kisses, but I always averse to doing more.

I had broken up with her before the horcrux hunt debacle, and I still felt it was safer for her that way. I didn't want to be away from her, but I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her because of me. I still felt immense guilt for numerous Order members' deaths. I couldn't have hers on my conscience too.

I started with a quick swallow upon the realisation Ginny had pushed herself between my knees. Her filmy dressing gown barely kissed her shoulders, and I had a sneaking suspicion she was nude beneath. I was quite thankful the heavy quilts were still bunched in my lap.

"Er, uhm…Ron is…" I stuttered, my eyes drawn to the freckled expanse of skin between her covered breasts.

"He's gone to the Burrow." Ginny leaned forward to whisper in my ear, while she untied the loose bow at her waist.

I wanted to be stronger. I tried, I did. I know you don't believe me, but that's fine. I actually managed to raise my hands to push her away, but they landed on her breasts. No man would have been able to resist after that.

"You're trying to kill me, Gin." I breathed, fighting with my resolve. She moaned, literally moaned.

I didn't know such a guttural sound could be so bloody sexy. I wanted to tear my hands from her breasts, but they were so soft. Ginny seemed to like the way I was touching them and shrugged the dressing robe from her shoulders.

"No, I'm trying to shag you." Ginny bit my earlobe and pushed me over.

I wasn't against the idea of shagging. I had done it before, but never with my best friend's little sister. He would absolutely murder me if he discovered I was romping his baby sister, but I couldn't force myself to care when Ginny straddled me.

"Wait…Ginny…I…" She cut me off with a searing kiss, and it was strange to be a victim of role reversal.

You would think I would be the predator and Ginny my prey, but no. My little Weasley had a definitive idea, and she wasn't going to allow me to dissuade her. I wasn't going to stop her. I was nervous, not stupid.

"Shut up, Harry." The sexy lilt to her voice shot straight to my cock, and I was through.

I couldn't argue with her. I didn't want to argue with her. I dragged her down against my chest and sighed as her breasts were flattened against me. I was absolutely certain it was the best sensation in the entire world.

I fumbled for a bit, and there were awkward moments, laced with a few grunts of displeasure, but we sussed it out. Ginny was definitely not a shy witch. She grabbed my hand and shoved it directly between her legs. I nearly died when she used my fingers to bring herself pleasure.

I didn't mind the instruction. I hadn't been concerned with a woman's pleasure the first time I shagged. Contrary to Hermione's opinion, I did enjoy learning new things.

I learned Ginny's nipples are particularly sensitive. She enjoys teeth grazing across them, followed by some suction. She does not enjoy digits anywhere in the vicinity of her bum, but she does pant rather loudly if I give her arse cheeks a bit of a smack.

I also learned Ginny is ridiculously loud when she is coming. I nearly had to cover her mouth with my hand, but I had a sneaking suspicion she would have bit me. Instead, I kissed her and she bloody well bit my lip, with her fingers digging into my shoulders.

I nearly came undone when I slid into her. She was absolutely beautiful. Her dark red hair was spread across my pillow and her pale skin had a blushed sort of look to it. She looked up at me and nodded slowly.

"I love you." I hadn't meant to say it. It just sort of escaped my mouth the moment I was buried to the hilt.

Ginny winced and I felt horrid for spouting off, but I realised it had nothing to do with my words. She adjusted her hips and I remained still. I didn't want to hurt her, and it was abundantly clear she was a virgin.

"You can't tell me that and mean it when your cock is in me, Harry." Ginny wriggled her hips, which spurred me on to move.

I was groaning, she was groaning. I couldn't recall either of us casting a Silencing Charm and there were fleeting thoughts of Arthur bursting into my room. The last thing I needed was Ginny's father discovering us in flagrante.

I shouted, at least I think I shouted when I came to my end. I managed not to collapse on top of her. I didn't quite know what to do. The last thing I had expected when I awoke was for Ginny to climb into my bed, but I wasn't about to complain.

"I mean it, Gin. I do. I love you." I ignored the sticky sweat and body fluids in order to recline beside her.

She cried. I made Ginny Weasley cry.

* * *

Narcissa wasn't speaking to me. I probably should have been thankful or something, but I wasn't. I was irritated. She was acting as if it was my fault Hermione disappeared. It wasn't. I didn't convince her to go off on her own.

I probably should have told her, Ron and I would be back within a few days, but even so. She could have communicated with us. She could have left us a note or sent an owl. Shit. We could have done the same. It seems we were all wrong, and I felt bad about it, I did.

There was a team of Aurors keeping their eyes open for her, but no one had picked up a trail. I was frustrated, but there wasn't much I could do. I was completely drowning in never-ending paperwork.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was absolutely determined our priority should be regaining Hogwarts. I didn't disagree, but I really wanted to concentrate on that last horcrux. I felt it was my responsibility. If anyone had a hope or a prayer to destroy Voldemort, it was me, wasn't it? It was always me, that's what I had always been told, but I couldn't help wondering…what if they were wrong?

"You're a terrible friend, Mr Potter." Narcissa was back to calling me 'Mr. Potter'.

We had made such progress in our friendship, our civility, whatever you'd like to call it. Yet, the moment Hermione had fucked off, I was Public Enemy Number One, in my own damn house. I needed to end all of this.

"You're right." There, that should set her on her heels. "I should have told her. I keep trying to protect her, which is stupid because she's so brilliant. I know you gave her a task, I'm not stupid either. You sent her on a rescue, didn't you?"

Mrs Horrible Black started screaming as the Floo roared to life, but I ignored all that. I was busy studying Narcissa Malfoy. I had come to know her quite well, and I knew she was filled with unease, simply from the way she was unable to maintain eye contact.

"Hermione narrowed down the locations of Nagini." Narcissa ignored my question and completely knocked me off my feet.

I literally staggered, while bracing my hands on the roll top desk in the study. My throat was suddenly scratchily dry, and I struggled to swallow. I was vaguely aware of Order members shoving their way into the study, and then vacating, in order to gather in my kitchen.

It was going to be a madhouse. I couldn't remember the last time we had all been gathered together, but I still wanted answers. Narcissa stepped backwards, as if to turn, but I leapt forward and grabbed her shoulder.

"Mrs Malfoy, we could use your assistance…" Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled at her. He smiled at her! "If you're finished with Mr Potter, of course."

"Minister." Narcissa nodded, her eyes suddenly an icy blue as they dallied over my hand on her shoulder.

"I need a minute, sir." Kingsley nodded, but it was obvious he wished to deny me.

"Mr Potter, I shall not inform Ms Weasley's father as to her extracurricular activities, if you can hold your tongue concerning mine." Narcissa quipped easily and I was still.

I blushed furiously. I was absolutely furious and also blushing. Those things do not belong together in the least, but I couldn't help it. Narcissa Malfoy was blackmailing me! I should have expected such underhanded cunning from a Slytherin.

I should have said something, definitely something insulting, but I just stood there. My mouth was gaped open like a floundering fish, and Narcissa smirked at me. I knew that smirk. I hated that smirk, and of course, then she was smiling for the Minister and bustling about preparing tea.

The mood was incredibly sombre in the kitchen, and I didn't like it. All eyes turned to me, and I swallowed hard. Something was amiss, and then I caught sight of Ron. His blue eyes were exceedingly red, and Ginny was holding him close.

Kingsley was conversing quietly with Arthur Weasley and Dedalus Diggle near the back door. I strained to hear them, but nothing could be discerned over the sounds of Hannah Longbottom's sniffling.

Yeah, I forgot to mention it, but Neville married her. She volunteered to postpone their wedding when Hermione disappeared, but Neville was against it. I understood his reasoning, though he never spoke them.

We had to embrace the good while we could. There was no telling what day would be our last. Might as well spend those moments with those we loved, and I knew as well as anybody, how much Neville loved Hannah.

"Hannah love, you know you can't get this upset. It isn't good for you or the babe."

Well shit, that was news to me. It was strange to think of Neville becoming a father. I had often wondered what sort of father I would be, considering I'd never truly had one. I worried I'd be rather shit at it honestly, but, I still want to try my hand at it. Someday.

"There's been a sighting."

I saw the Minister's lip move. I heard his words, yet I didn't understand them. He repeated them, and I still, I only frowned.

"Where?" Narcissa interjected on my behalf, while she thrust a wickedly hot cup of tea into my limp hands. She forced me to sit at the head of the table, and finally, I blinked.

"Tell me." I expected Shacklebolt or even Diggle to regale me with some sort of story, but that's not what happened. It was Narcissa, and I couldn't help but feel betrayed by everyone I loved.

"Ms Granger and I had an understanding, a bargain if you will. Before your tempers get the best of you, you should know the Minister for Magic had approved our tête-à-tête. I offered my expansive knowledge of where Malfoy Manor is concerned, in exchange for her expertise. We formulated a plan…" Narcissa paused and cleared her throat.

"And then you rushed off and did whatever you like, without considering the consequences!" Ron shouted angrily, and Arthur was quick to restrain him.

"A wise woman once told me, it is better to ask forgiveness than permission." Narcissa blinked, and Ron fell silent.

I gripped the sides of the table and closed my eyes. Hermione. There had been a sighting of Hermione. I was a little slow on understanding only because I couldn't believe she had been so reckless. I had always been the one rushing forward, only to be scolded later. I had always been the one telling her, it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

"We've set aside Hermione's notes for you, and we've agreed to allow you to assemble a team of your choosing." Minister Shacklebolt cleared his throat noisily, and I wanted to feel smug, but I didn't.

He hadn't believed me when I'd approached him with simply the possibility of a remaining horcrux. I was being irrational. I was clinging to the vestiges of Voldemort when there wasn't a need. However, have Hermione Granger compose a letter and offer a bloody tome of notes, and look how quickly the Ministry changed its tune.

"Where is she?" My voice was raspy, but not because my throat was parched. It was simmering rage.

Hermione was my family. She understood the plight of being raised by Muggles who didn't have the slightest interest in magic. She understood me better than I understood myself. She knew I would want to go with her. She knew I couldn't just stand by and watch her put herself in danger and…shit.

"We never considered the true possibility of her capture. We were arrogant and sure. Our contingencies plans didn't include this scenario. However, I suppose she must have assumed it could happen. I can't be certain. I take full responsibility, if it makes you feel better." Narcissa patted my shoulder awkwardly, and I flinched away from her touch.

"Where is the fucking snake?" I realised no one had bothered to answer my question about Hermione, but I would return to that later.

"Knowing Hermione as you do, I'm sure it does not surprise you in the least to learn she created a list." Kingsley sighed and even rolled his spectacularly dark eyes.

"I swear to God if you tell me the Chamber of Secrets is on that list…" I slammed my palms onto the smooth wood of the table and lurched to my feet.

At least Hannah had stopped sniffling, that was delightful. I dare say she looked a bit scared of me, which only made me feel more powerful than I am. I needed this. I was tired of hiding in the shadows, being a good little Ministry worker, and doing exactly what I was told.

Hermione might have connived behind my back with Narcissa Malfoy. She might have gone on some stupid mission to rescue Draco Malfoy. She might have made me feel betrayed and a little hurt, but she also gave me back my purpose.

"Harry, before you get your knickers in a twist, the Chamber isn't on the list, don't be completely daft." Kingsley read the first few lines decorating the parchment of Hermione's impressive book of notes, and I almost laughed.

"At least there's that. I couldn't face the idea of venturing back to Hogwarts and into that bloody Chamber. You do realise we've got to get Hogwarts back. There isn't a choice in the matter." I grit my teeth and it was a commanding performance, I suppose. At least I had their attention, which is more than I'd had lately. "Now, where is Hermione?"

"Harry, she's been gone for months…"

"Six. She's been gone for six months. She's not dead otherwise you lot would be completely howling. Something's happened, and you're afraid to tell me." I scratched my head and ignored Narcissa's snort.

She hated when I did that. She claimed I made more of a mess, but I begged to differ. It was my hair, and if I wanted to muss it, then I should be able too. It was never going to lay flat anyway. It was the one physical attribute that belonged completely to my dad, and I aimed to keep it.

"We found her wand in Wiltshire." Diggle had remained silent until now, and I appreciated that.

"Wiltshire, that's not really narrowing it down much." My fingers thumped against the table and Narcissa slapped my hand. She really was going overboard with the whole mothering shit.

"The Manor, Harry." Ron had managed to free himself from his dad's firm grip, with fire in his eyes. "They found her wand just beyond Malfoy Manor."

"She's gone to rescue him." I pressed my fingers to my temples and left the room.

I didn't want to discuss it anymore. I wanted to place that tidbit of information in the deep recesses of my mind, and focus on Nagini. That snake was the bane of my existence. If I could destroy the last horcrux, there was nothing stopping me from ending Voldemort and bringing Hermione home. They were joined together in a twisted web, I knew in my heart of hearts it was true.

I raced up the narrow steps while ignoring the screeching portraits, and threw open the door to Sirius Black's bedchamber. I missed him, but I didn't have the time to focus on that either. It was a simple matter to start throwing clothes into a worn leather bag I kept tucked beneath the bed. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't have a plan, but I couldn't just do fucking nothing, not any longer.

Constant Vigilance had been a way of life, once upon a time. It should never have wavered. We were complacent, and look where it had got us? You see…there actually were moments I listened to the raspy words of Alastor Moody. I sort of missed him too dammit.

"Harry James Potter, you best not even think of leaving without a word. I can't believe you. The rest of the Order is strategizing and you're packing. If you think you can just dismiss me, and leave me behind again…" Ginny was ferociously angry with me, not that I blamed her.

"Ginny…"

"Don't you Ginny me, Harry Potter!" Gods, Ginny was always glorious when she was angry, even if she was shouting at me. "Enough is enough. You can't take on the world alone. You're only one man, one wizard. Ultimately you could be the one to take down Voldemort, but what if you're not? What if it's a joint effort? What if it was always supposed to be a joint effort, but Harry bloody Potter thought hey, I'm the Chosen One and went off on his own and got blasted to bits?! We're the Order of the Phoenix, not the Order of Harry Potter. Pull your head out of your arse." I cut Ginny off with a bone-crushing hug and a quick peck to her open lips.

She was absolutely right. I needed someone to remind me, and considering Hermione was off channelling her…inner…me, it was only logical that it was Ginny knocking some sense into me. How on earth did I manage to survive all these years without them?

I'm not an idiot. I know I'm not, but there are these moments when my bravado rushes to the forefront and logic trails so far behind it's impossible to grasp it. I just want to live up to this legacy that was bestowed upon me from the moment Voldemort murdered my parents. I want my parents to be proud of me, which I know is a bit ridiculous at my age, but…oh bollocks. I fucking understood Draco Malfoy more than I wanted to now, and I didn't much like the similarities.

"Harry?" Ginny was staring up at me in adoration, and I definitely didn't hate it.

I was tired. I was tired of wasting time. I was tired of trying to wrestle the baddies into submission. Ginny was right. Hermione was right. Everyone was right. I didn't have to do this alone. I had family, and it was almost enough…almost.

"Marry me." My forehead gently touched hers while I waited for my words to reach her ears.

Her brown eyes widened, but then she frowned heavily, until I repeated myself. She's a Weasley. They're known for their stubbornness, which they get from both their parents. You'd think it would have just been Molly, but no, Arthur was fairly stubborn as well.

"You're…serious?" Ginny whispered and I loved that. I loved it when she was all…soft, with smooth lines. There was something endearing about her vulnerability.

"Yeah. Marry me. I can't face the idea of leaving you dangling again. I wasn't really protecting you. I was protecting myself and I realise now…I've got to stop trying to save the world. I mean, not this time obviously. I've got detailed instructions from the brightest witch of the age. She'd have my head if I did nothing, but I need you. I need to know you're here, waiting for me, loving me despite myself. Ginevra Molly Weasley, marry me."

Her shriek nearly took my ears off, but it was worth it. In case you couldn't guess, she said yes.


	9. 9 - Hermione

You're going to think me a bit mad, but that's all right. The hardest part of this mission was the loss of my hair. I know, you're scoffing at me, probably rolling your eyes as well.

My hair had been the bane of my existence, and the cause of much ridicule throughout my life. However, it was also my trademark of sorts. While I never enjoyed the limelight, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to enjoying recognition. It bolstered my confidence. It allowed me to believe in myself. I do have terrible self-esteem.

"You're fidgeting." Cissa sighed in exasperation, and I didn't blame her.

We were sitting in the small garden of Grimmauld Place. The stool she forced me upon was wobbly, and I didn't want to be shorn. She insisted, but I still stubbornly resisted.

"This really isn't necessary. A simple Glamour…"

"Hermione Granger your obstinance truly knows no bounds. Do you honestly believe The Dark Lord would be unable to see beyond a Glamour? It was your hair that alerted my vile sister to the fact Draco was indeed lying about your identity. We can't afford to make such mistakes again."

I swear that woman was going to have my teeth worn down to nothingness with all the moments I spent gritting them together. She kept saying 'we' as if she was doing anything more than remaining behind. I could easily recognise the subtle inflexion in her words. Cissa subconsciously blamed me for Draco Malfoy's lies to Voldemort.

It wasn't my fault. I didn't force him to lie. I fully expected him to out us. I was grateful he hadn't, but I still suffered in the end.

I remained silent, knowing it was in my best interest. I don't know why I flinched, it's not as if Cissa had resorted to Muggle means to rid me of my hair. She waved her wand, muttering an unfamiliar incantation, and my frizzy, bushy locks were falling to the grasses.

"You look ridiculous. Was that the point?" Kingsley Shacklebolt was shaking with mirth, his large dark hands desperately gripping his bulging stomach.

"You're not supposed to be here." It was difficult to enunciate through my teeth, but I managed.

"She's still so uptight. They'll never recognise her. Are you sure, you're ready? Do you have a contingency plan? If you wander too close to Hogwarts, you'll alert them your presence and I can't guarantee your safety. Do know where you're to enter the Manor? How will you contact us if you're captured…"

"Kingsley. I'm only doing some quick reconnaissance at Hogwarts. If everything goes according to plan, they won't even know I've been on the grounds. As for the Manor, if I can make my way to Cissa's garden shed, there's a tunnel. I'm sure it'll be fine. According to Harry and Ron, the Death Eaters have grown completely complacent. They'll barely notice some…" I struggled, and took a long, slow breath, "lad, wizard, what have you, tending the roses."

"Good. Good. Potter and Weasley are gone. I'm going to pretend I don't know what they're doing, even if I know exactly what they're doing." Kingsley rocked on his heels, but that wasn't going to save him from a good hexing.

Cissa swiped my wand, if you can believe it. She plucked it right from my fingertips! She also clucked her tongue at me and shook her head, as if she were scolding a small child.

"What do you mean…they're gone?" If I had my hair it probably would have bushed out behind me, considering I could feel my magic rushing through my veins.

I knew my boys were considering a stealth mission, but they didn't even speak to me about it. They didn't ask for my opinion or even my expertise. They treated me like Ginny for Godric's sake!

"I noticed something was amiss when a precarious stack of pancakes remained untouched."

I felt sick to my stomach. They really were gone. Ron could never resist the allure of a hot breakfast. Narcissa continued on to tell me about missing clothing and rucksacks as well. I would have hidden behind my hair, but I didn't have any.

All right fine, I was being a little dramatic. I wasn't completely bald. Cissa had left me half an inch or so of light brown hair. At least that's what I could feel when I touched my head.

Now that I thought about it, this was the perfect time for me to leave. I had planned on waiting another week or two to go over my notes. I had planned on broaching the subject with Harry and Ron. I had planned on a lot of things, but now that they were doing whatever it was they were doing, there was no need for me to stay. It did save me a lot of grief and arguments.

"I'll leave at dusk."

Kingsley and Cissa glanced toward each other, but then they nodded. I suppose they saw the brilliance in the plan as well. I didn't envy them though. Ron does have quite a temper, and there are moments when Harry isn't much better.

* * *

I was scared. It was one thing to be afraid when accompanied by others. It was quite another to be completely alone, in the midst of a war, and scared.

It was supposed to be a quick reconnaissance mission, but I had been spotted. I hadn't thought anything of it immediately, but it didn't take long for the curious voices to grow closer. I hadn't even stepped onto Hogwarts grounds, and I was nearly surrounded.

I was forced to take cover in the Forbidden Forest. I hadn't been expecting that. I hadn't expected any of it, and I was kicking myself. I should have known Hogsmeade had Wards to alert the Death Eaters of anyone's presence.

They had done such things during the midst of the War, for Merlin's sake. I was cocky, and an idiot. I waltzed straight into Hogsmeade with shorn hair and bound breasts thinking it would be child's play. I had underestimated them. I was Harry.

The creatures of the Forbidden Forest were none too pleased I had invaded their sanctuary, and who could blame them? I knew I couldn't stay long, but I fervently hoped the Death Eaters and Snatchers would soon grow tired of chasing after me.

They weren't welcome in the forest either, which was a small consolation. I was cold. I was tired, and I wasn't making any headway. I was the bloody rescue party, and I couldn't think straight any longer.

I couldn't return to Grimmauld Place empty-handed. I refused. I had made promises, and I vowed to always keep them, even if they were detrimental to myself. For the first time in my life, I didn't have a plan. I didn't know what to do. I needed to take the time and collect myself, but I didn't have the luxury.

It had taken me longer than I thought it should to even get to Hogsmeade as it was. I was already behind schedule. Narcissa and I had calculated nearly everything, but we hadn't expected the Wizarding World to be literally filled with the enemy.

"I saw something there!" I flattened myself against a broad tree and held my breath.

I was actually thankful I didn't have a headful of easily recognisable hair attached to my head. I intended to traverse the countryside as a young wizard, and I had done that. It seemed it didn't matter whether I was witch or wizard any longer. The Snatchers and Death Eaters were rounding up everyone for personal sport.

I took a chance, and slowly removed my wand from the pocket of my dark brown slacks. I held my breath as a small collection of Death Eaters, complete with masks, scoured my immediate vicinity. I had to leave, and I had to do it right then, if I had any hope of survival.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the gates of Malfoy Manor. It was the best I could do. In the end, Malfoy Manor was supposed to be my final destination. It was reckless, I knew that, but I couldn't fail.

I heard the angry shouts just as I felt the squeeze in my abdomen. I landed with a thump in a thicket of shrubberies, but I didn't care. They hadn't caught me.

I ran toward the trees bordering the grounds, hoping I hadn't been spotted. It was decidedly dark amongst those trees, and I knew there were Enchantments. Narcissa hadn't mentioned that bit, but this wasn't in the plan.

I was supposed to secure a menial job at Hogwarts, where I would show a proficiency for roses, at which point my new post would be Narcissa's rose garden at Malfoy Manor. I don't know why Death Eaters would care to tend Narcissa's roses, but she assured me. She practically swore on their love for her gardens. It didn't make sense to me, but I wasn't a Death Eater.

It was easy enough to climb into a wide hollow at the base of a monstrous tree. I gathered my thin cloak around my shoulders and attempted to sleep. It was difficult, but I managed a fitful slumber.

While I was plagued with nightmares surrounding Harry and Ron's deaths, I felt slightly better when I awoke. It was dark as pitch, which was better for me. In the distance, I was able to spy a few sparse lights scattered over the grounds, which alerted me to the Guard.

Hannah had informed me Fenrir Greyback was not only a member of the Guard, but he led those sadistic bastards. He was one of the few Death Eaters that truly terrified me. I had witnessed his brutality first hand when I had saved Lavender Brown.

Part of me kept hoping Harry would discover I was gone, and threaten the truth of the matter from Narcissa, or even Kinglsey. I knew it was a ridiculous notion, but it gave me comfort. I was tired, so very tired. What was supposed to take a few days, had taken weeks. At least I believed it to be weeks.

I coughed, after a firm gust of wind blew up a bit of dust and dirt. They heard me. I knew they had, as their far off whispering voices were suddenly silent. I could hear the distinct pops of Apparition, and there was nothing I could do.

I was on the Manor grounds, and yes, I had easily penetrated the Wards, but leaving was another matter entirely. I couldn't Apparate. I was trapped. Narcissa failed to mention that little fact, and I had forgotten to ask about such things. We were so bloody excited to be doing something other than waiting around and worrying.

I carefully got to my feet, silently willing the leaves not to crunch beneath my boots. I thought perhaps I'd be alright. It seemed they weren't remotely close to my hiding spot, which caused me to breathe a bit easier.

I clutched my wand in my frozen hand, begging my fingers to comply. I silently weaved through the trees, carefully retreating from the sounds of raucous laughter and lewd innuendos. I heard Greyback's gravelly voice and began to run.

I didn't get far. I don't know how I didn't see her. I don't know how I didn't hear her. I was ordinarily absolutely vigilant when it came to Bellatrix Lestrange, but she was nearly silent. I heard an exhale eerily close to me, and then I was on the ground.

"Gotcha!" She hissed, leering into my face as she kicked my wand from my hand.

I remained silent, refusing to play into her sadistic games. I'd been down this road before. I had prevailed, but barely. If it hadn't been for Harry, Ron, Dobby, and even Draco Malfoy, I wouldn't have survived. I didn't have them this go round.

"Did you think you could fool me? Stupid little witch. I'm going to have so much fun with my new toy!" Bellatrix cackled loudly and dragged me to the imposing gates of Malfoy Manor.

She thrust me toward them, saddened when I didn't scream. It seemed she was unaware of the Muggleborn Clause, which gave me a bit of relief. You would think she would know more than anyone how arrogant Voldemort was, but then again, so was she.

I don't know how many days she kept me locked in a small closet. I hadn't seen daylight in many sleeps. My body was bruised and battered, but Bellatrix Lestrange was not the sort of witch to relent.

"She's boring." I heard her complain. I would have smiled, if I could have. "She doesn't even scream anymore." I imagined her pouting, in a sadistic sort of way.

"She's probably numb by now." I knew that voice. I hated that voice. "You could give her to Greyback." I shivered, hoping he wasn't intending on joining Bellatrix's games.

"Hmm yes, I could Dolohov, but she'd have to pass the test first, which requires a visit to my nephew." Bellatrix sighed, and I perked up at the idea of seeing someone, anyone other than her. "Fetch me Goyle and Amycus, they can take her down to the dungeons for me. I do not wish to see my nephew." I listened to the telltale sound of her stiletto boots clip across the marble floor, and almost breathed a sigh of relief.

I wasn't completely daft, I knew something was going to happen. I also knew it was probably going to be worse than being used for spell practice, but at least I wasn't dead. I still had a chance. However, I didn't know how I was supposed to accomplish anything without a wand, and as a prisoner, but I was resilient.

I definitely wasn't expecting to be dragged from my dark closet by the back of my neck. I was almost grateful I didn't have hair. It would have been worse if I had hair. As it was, my clothing barely resembled anything with the number of abuses I had suffered.

Bellatrix was inappropriately fond of whipping me, which shredded my beige plaid button down and my bindings. There was no point in pretending I was a young lad. She had an uncanny ability to suss out the truth of the matter almost immediately. I thought it had been a clever idea personally, but I was wrong.

My knees slammed onto the marble when one of the Death Eaters threw me, but I barely grunted. I blinked rapidly while trying to acclimate as quickly as possible to the blinding light. It wasn't particularly bright, but I had been in darkness for who knows how long.

I heard their lips smacking and knew they were having lascivious thoughts, but there seemed to be an unspoken rule when it came to violating their female prisoners. I wasn't aware there was a code of conduct among murderers, but I suppose I learned something new.

I glanced up, surprised to see the face of Gregory Goyle. He looked just the same, with his beady little eyes and dull expression. Amycus Carrow, on the other hand, looked as though he wished to devour me, and I shied away from him.

They pushed and prodded me, shoving me toward the cellar. I didn't want to go down there. There was no telling what was waiting for me below, but I hadn't a choice in the matter. It seemed as though they forgot I was there, for they soon began conversing about the War.

"I really thought we had a fighting chance this go round." Goyle sighed as he pushed open the heavy door, his fat fingers digging into my thin wrist.

"What are you going on about?" Amycus growled, carefully avoiding even a graze of my bare skin.

"It was a tough loss. I can't believe their lot has retaken Hogwarts. I thought we were pretty solid bu…"

"Shut it! The Dark Lord says we're not to speak in the Malfoys vicinity." Amycus thrust his elbow into Goyle's ribs quite harshly.

"What's vicinity mean?" I would have snorted if I hadn't believed it would earn me a solid beating.

"How on earth someone as stupid as you became a loyal Death Eater is beyond me. You're a disgrace." Amycus pushed me, and my bare feet slipped on the slimy damp stairs.

We passed a wall sconce and I blinked away from the light. I didn't want to see my surroundings. I should have been strategically planning my escape, but I was still sort of grateful to be alive.

"She's pretty." Goyle studied my face in the dim light, and there was longing there, which caused revulsion on my part.

"We can't touch her." I knew Amycus was losing whatever patience he had, and I didn't even blame him.

"I didn't touch her, I only said she was pretty." Goyle grunted, but his disappointment was nearly palpable. "There's no place to put her, the other cells were sealed after that bitch go away."

Hannah. It was Hannah. I wanted to vehemently defend her, but that was a bloody death sentence.

"Ach, just put her in with him." Amycus was obviously severely irritated with his companion, and I still didn't blame him.

"Could we have a go first?" Goyle touched the small of my back, and I squeaked, manoeuvring away from his pudgy fingers.

"Don't be daft, there are rules."

Amycus waved his wand and unlocked the cell. The door swung open of its own accord and he shoved me hard. I skidded upon the slick stone and crashed to my knees with a grunt.

There was someone in the cell, and I could only assume it was Malfoy. He offered his hand, and I took it, grateful for the kindness. He pulled me to my feet and I tripped, slamming into him. He moved me across the cell and I whimpered when my back hit the stone. I was trembling, but he squeezed my hand, offering me silent assurances I didn't understand.

"Are you a virgin?" His breath was hot near my ear, and I didn't know what the correct answer was.

"N-no." I hesitated, and it sounded false even to my own ears, I couldn't imagine how it sounded to him.

He lectured me then. He told me to lie better, but I was distracted. His cool fingers were stroking my inner wrist in a rather intimate manner. I couldn't take it. It was entirely too many conflicting sensations, and I wrenched my hand free.

Amycus Carrow shouted at Malfoy from beyond the cell, but I barely heard him. Draco Malfoy stroked my cheek, which made me believe he was starved for human companionship. He was gentle when he asked the same question again.

"Concentrate. Lie better if you've hope to survive."

"Yes." I hissed the answer, which was apparently correct considering Goyle and Carrow groaned with discontent.

Strangely, we sagged against each other the moment they retreated. It was silent for a few moments as we simply stood there, drawing strength from each other. I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit.

He was speaking to me, but I barely heard him. I was remembering the horrid boy from my youth and lashing out at him, but he didn't rise to the occasion. He seemed resigned to his fate, and I didn't much like that either.

I'm sure he's given you the details by now. I'm sure you know all about my arguing with him, and bathing. I can't believe he offered me his cot. I couldn't take it, I wouldn't take it. I couldn't accept his kindness and offer nothing in return.

Therefore, I compromised. His cot was much more comforting than the hard floor I had lain upon in the closet. I couldn't keep those small comforts to myself. I slept on the floor as well, but he had a tendency to moan and cry out in his sleep.

It bothered me. Everything about this bothered me. He was so broken, and I didn't know how to help him. When he shouted in the midst of his nightmares, I'd hold his hand. It wasn't much, but it calmed him.

I noticed the way he manoeuvred what was now our cell. There was barely any light, but it didn't matter. Draco Malfoy's eyes remained closed. Every morning, if it were morning, he'd make his way to the wall nearest the cot and carve another line.

The days all blurred together, but he knew exactly how many days he had been prisoner. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep, but he never knew. At least, I don't think he ever knew.

When they came for him, I nearly broke. I couldn't believe they would treat him as though he were an animal. He was a human being, but they had lost their humanity long ago. Did they ever have it? It was yet another question my psyche begged to be answered, but there was nothing more than silence in response.

Amycus Carrow drew pleasure from what looked to be an impending torture session. I could see it in his eyes. He wasn't nearly as terrifying as Bellatrix, but he was just as sadistic.

I offered to take his place. Narcissa would have been proud of me, but Draco Malfoy wouldn't hear of it. When did he become so gallant? When did he become so kind? How could he be everything good in a place such as this?

"I'll go." I pushed off the wall, determined to face my gailers, but Draco was furious at the prospect.

"She won't." I watched him struggle to stand, and I grasped his wrist.

It was the first time I had touched him while he was awake. He wasn't expecting it and his hiss nearly caused me to tear away, but I didn't. I held tight. He slowly withdrew from me, and I vaguely wondered how I would feel to be touched after being alone for so long.

"You don't have to do this. Let me go." I was pleading with him, and it was the most I had said to him since I was thrust into his cell.

Draco's face softened, and then he was explaining the location of Healing Potions, which scared me. I was afraid they were going to kill him and then everything I'd done would be for nought. I couldn't face the idea of looking into his mother's eyes and telling her, I had failed. I am Hermione Granger, I don't fail.

I waited until the bars clanked open, and then I was running. I was unsteady on wobbling limbs, but I tried. Malfoy was expecting it and stopped me. He caught me round the waist and held me against him.

"Don't be stupid. This cell protects you. Never leave it. You've no idea the danger you'd be submitting yourself too. I need you to trust me. I know you don't, but please…stay." He squeezed me for just a moment before he shoved me toward the cot.

The bars were clanging shut and I was left behind. I was always left behind, except I knew Draco Malfoy was walking toward what could possibly be his death. He could die, and instead of allowing me to take it from him, he protected me.

I couldn't stand it. I hated the idea of him protecting me when it should have been the other way around. I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to rescue him. I had epically failed, and I burst into tears.

My shoulders shook with the force of my ragged sobs as they dragged him away. I fervently wondered if I would ever see him again. I didn't much like the way that felt, which only caused me to cry harder.


	10. 10 - Draco

Voldemort, the Dark Bastard, had cursed me himself. If I had been captured by the Order and even sent to Azkaban, they would know. Everyone would know that Voldemort was still alive, and fuck, he couldn't have that, now could he? No, I was the best-kept secret, and the Death Eaters resented it.

"Tell them." The Dark Bastard hissed to whoever was tending him that day, and I sagged in relief when Greyback released me. I would have sobbed, if I could have.

"As far as Mr Malfoy is concerned, you shall not touch him again. He will no longer suffer your abuses. Any wizard that disobeys the Dark Lord shall consider his life forfeit." I knew that voice. I remembered that voice. Zabini, Blaise Zabini, he sounded the way I felt, and I would have felt sorry for him, but I was too busy feeling sorry for me.

There was a rumble in the small gathering of Death Eaters, but it soon dissipated. I was suddenly covered in a thick, fur-lined cloak, and offered a goblet of crisp, cool water. I hadn't eaten or drank anything cool, or even hot, in years upon years, and it was a blessing.

I assumed there was to be some sort of Death Eater meeting, but I was no longer privy to such things. Gentle hands led me back down to my cell, and I struggled to keep from sagging against my escort. I wanted to feel relieved, but I wasn't stupid.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy." It was Blaise, and I didn't know what to say. I couldn't say it was all right, it wasn't. I couldn't say anything at all, so I didn't. "I've sent instructions for your accommodations to be…improved. The house elves were happy to help." I knew he tacked on that last bit only because I was hyperventilating.

The Death Eaters were not to enter my cell. The Dark Bastard had declared it off-limits, not the mention the protections, but I doubt they knew about them. Death Eaters were not the brightest bunch. Of course, they worked around the rules and often enticed me to willingly leave by threatening the other prisoners. At least they had when there were other prisoners, but now it was just me.

There weren't other prisoners any longer, and I was glad for it, but it was a bit lonely. I wouldn't lie and say I missed the sounds of their sobbing, but it did make me feel less alone. There was only me. Well, now, there was her as well, but she wouldn't last. They never did, and if things went well, I'd get her out. It was the least I could do.

"Oh my gods. What have they done to you?"

It sounded as though she was actually concerned for me. It was nice to have someone fuss over me. I'd forgotten what concern even sounded like. I missed my mother.

Zabini hefted me through the opening and hissed as the enchantments sizzled his dark skin. I probably should have warned him, but I didn't. Fuck him.

My knees gave out, and I expected to crash to the stone, but surprisingly there was a tiny little witch keeping me aloft. She huffed, groaning under my weight, but I couldn't help her. I couldn't even help myself.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Zabini whispered, and I was levitating toward the cot.

"Thank you."

She really was fucking polite. She had to be a Gryffindor. A Hufflepuff would have been crying already, a Slytherin wouldn't have cared, and a Ravenclaw wouldn't have been caught in the first place.

"Don't." I managed to rasp.

She was pushing on my new cloak, but I didn't want her to see. I didn't want anyone to see. It was humiliating. I was ashamed.

"It's dark as pitch in here. I can't see anything anyway, but it's obvious you need to be healed." Ugh, logic, and she wasn't wrong. I think I preferred it when she was silent.

"I could light the lamps." Zabini hadn't left. I wondered if there was a perverse sort of pleasure for him, watching me being tended, as broken as I was.

"Don't you fucking dare." I groaned, whimpering even as the witch smeared some thick sort of salve on my bareback.

I could feel the cloak on the backs of my thighs, but I knew it was only a matter of time before she discovered the source of my pain. My back was littered in slashes, and I was sure they were bleeding, but I couldn't allow her to do much more. Despite everything, I still had my pride.

"I don't understand." She sighed, gasping as her hand dropped onto the cloak. "I've got to remove this. It's soaked through. Oh, gods…"

I rolled onto my side and drew my knees up to my chest. Everything hurt less that way. I didn't want to hear her dismay. I wanted her to go away and sit in the corner. I wanted her to pretend I was fine, but she didn't.

"You can't do this to people! It's absolutely inhumane! He needs a Blood Replenishing Potion. He needs a Pain Potion. He needs an actual bed, with clean linens. He could probably do with a Numbing Potion as well. If you're going to abuse him, the least you can do is tend to him afterwards. You're all a bunch of savages!" She had fire in her, and she was using that fire for me. She shouldn't. I wasn't worth it.

"I didn't want this. I didn't ask for this. I got captured just the same as you." Zabini sounded as defeated as I felt.

I don't think she was expecting that bit of information. I supposed she thought we were all just willing Death Eaters, frolicking in the blood of our enemies, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

"Even so, you could help him." Her fingers were combing through my hair, and her simple little act was calming.

"I'll see what I can do." As I was drifting off, I heard the squeaky voice of a house elf and an adamant witch barking orders.

* * *

I was vaguely aware of being warm, when I regained consciousness. I didn't move, afraid it was a dream. My head was surrounded by something soft, and I sighed.

"I don't know what else to do." She was whispering, and her lips were brushing my forehead.

"You've done all you can. Unless of course, you're willing to do what that Abbott bint did." Blaise chuckled, and I knew he was sitting on the floor outside my cell.

"You knew Hannah? What did she do? She wasn't particularly forthcoming when it came to certain details, but she warned me…" She wiped my face and neck with a cool cloth and tucked the thick blankets around me, before moving away.

"What the fuck are you doing here? You're…"

"Don't say my name. He doesn't want to know who I am, and I have to respect that." She cut him off and Blaise didn't even shout at her, which would have impressed me under different circumstances.

"Aye, and protect yourself at the same time. His last companion made him human. She fussed over him, more than a little. She offered herself to him as well, but he turned her down. He got her out. I still don't know how he did it, but one day she was just gone. He was easier to break afterwards. They tortured him for days before the Dark Lord discovered what they were doing to his prize. It took a month to fix him up proper." Blaise sighed and I imagined him rubbing his forehead in distress.

"She was quite fond of him. I think she still is. They don't trust her anymore, but I understand now. He's different. He's…"

"Awake," I interjected. I didn't want to listen to them speak of me any longer. I wanted to move as my body was so stiff, from lying about for who bloody knows how long.

"It's about fucking time. I've got to report. I suspect I'll see you again." I listened for the sounds of Zabini's boots thumping on the stairs and released the breath I'd been holding.

She was tinkling with some bottles, and I heard them clinking. I didn't speak, and neither did she, not for quite some time. I felt her near me, felt her little fingers prodding my chest and poking my shoulder. I turned on my side, wincing, but I wasn't in pain.

She wrenched down the blankets and inspected my back, causing me to shiver in the cold air. I stopped her hands at my waist. She didn't need to investigate further. She shoved my hands away and tore the blankets off.

"Look. You've been out of commission for a week. I've bathed you for Merlin's sake and…"

"You…bathed…me?" I instantly hated that idea. My chest was immediately tight as I couldn't help but wonder if Blaise had illuminated the lamps.

"Breathe, it was in the dark, but someone had to do it. I couldn't leave you crusted in blood, and the house elf refused to touch you." She was standing beside me, and I deduced I was in a bed. I was lying in a real bed, with crisp sheets and feather pillows.

"You washed all of me?" I managed to sit up and discovered there was a wooden headboard to lean against. What the hell had she been doing while I was incapacitated?

"Y-yes. It really was necessary. I was…training to be a Healer before…and, it was completely professional." She sniffed and I imagined a haughty, sort of condescending sneer on her lips.

"You wash my cock as well?" I was being rude, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to help it.

I was angry. I felt violated, which is humorous if you think about it. The great Death Eater toy felt violated from being washed. Yes, fucking hilarious.

"It was necessary. You were completely crusted in dried blood. I needed to assess the damage…" She sighed, and I felt her sit on the corner of the bed.

"Did it…work?" My cock and I had parted ways years ago. It no longer functioned the way you'd imagine it should. It did what was necessary and nothing more than that. It saved me from lusting after the various witches littering my dreams, but even so, it was depressing.

"N-no…"

"I didn't think so." My shoulders slumped, and I threaded my fingers together. There wasn't anything to say after that.

"You should rest. You've been through quite an ordeal." She was yanking the blankets up my bare chest and fluffing my pillows. You'd think I was an actual patient.

I listened to her prattle on about our new accommodations. She was particularly thrilled with the bed linens and heavy blankets. The soaking tub just behind the magical loo didn't hurt any either. I could hear the smile on her lips, and it puzzled me.

She should have been furious to be sharing anything with me. She should have treated me like filth. I am filth. She reminded me of…Hannah. I hated knowing that witch's name. I preferred the anonymity. I didn't want to remember her from our years in Hogwarts.

I didn't want to remember her long blonde hair and her warm brown eyes. I didn't want to remember the way she'd never sneered at me. I didn't want to remember her soft voice and her sweet disposition.

I especially didn't want to remember the way she had laid beside me. The soft sighs of her breath being expelled against my chest. The hesitancy in her voice when she offered herself to me, as if I deserved her, as if taking her body would be payment for my kindnesses.

I didn't want to remember her soft lips on my cheek just before I led her to safety. She promised she'd come for me. She promised she wouldn't just leave me there to rot. I had almost believed her. I had wanted to believe her, but, that was four hundred and fifty days ago. I didn't believe her anymore.

* * *

I don't know how it happened. She just started climbing into the four-poster bed with me. I didn't object, I never objected. I think we both expected the other to voice displeasure, but neither of us did.

The moment she fell asleep, I would touch her. It wasn't lewd and lascivious. It was merely a way for me to cling to the last vestiges of my humanity. Sometimes, it was just a palm on her back, other nights I blatantly held her hand.

I missed my mother. I desperately missed my mother, but I was glad she wasn't here to see me like this. I was so fucking lonely, I probably would have cuddled with McGonagall if given the chance.

"Why did you turn her down?" She had started speaking to me once we were in bed. It was a way to pass the time, but it was strange. It reminded me of pillow talk, and I missed that as well.

"She would have regretted it."

It was true. Hannah would have regretted it. I had listened her to speak about Neville Longbottom for one hundred of the one hundred and sixty days she spent in my cell. She hoped to be able to return to him. She never said his name, but it wasn't difficult to discern the truth. I mean, who else is a clumsy oaf with an affinity for Herbology?

"You've changed."

I was toying with her hair. I liked her hair. It was ridiculously short, but it was slowly growing. It was also curling, which made me constantly guess as to her identity, but I'd never ask.

"I suspect you have as well. War and imprisonment does that to a person." I couldn't see her in the dark, but I knew she was closer than usual. I touched her cheek, and she didn't flinch away from me. "Do you…have someone waiting for you? Is that what's getting you through?"

"What's getting you through?" She shifted a bit, and her bare leg grazed mine.

The gooseflesh that freckled my skin surprised me. It had been years since my body had done anything more than function. I wanted to reach between us and stroke her skin, but I resisted. It was better for us both if I kept my distance.

"You're avoiding the question." I flopped onto my back and shoved my arm beneath my pillow. If I didn't, I was going to do something I regretted. The last thing I needed was to add to the growing list. "Nothing. I don't know. In the beginning, it was my anger, I was so fucking furious. Of course, the resounding screams of the others only fueled…everything. Then, one day they were just…gone. It was slowly at first, but in the end, it was just me. I screamed quite often, it didn't help." I sighed, but it was more like a groan.

I listened carefully and heard her slide her pillow closer. Her cold hand was touching my chest, and I felt her breath on my cheek. She didn't ask, she just rested her head on my chest, like it was something she'd always done. She tossed her leg across mine, and her fingers were strumming, just over my heart.

"And then Hannah came."

"Well, yes but also no. She wasn't the first witch I had released. She was the first to share my cell. I'm not going to tell you how I did it. Your time will come. I swear it."

"Don't swear." There was something achingly familiar about those simple little words.

I couldn't place her, and believe me, I'd tried. She definitely wasn't Slytherin, but she was cunning in her own way. She was fascinatingly brilliant, which really was a delightful change from simply listening to Greg's blunders.

"What are you doing?" Her thigh was incredibly warm draped across mine, and she was continuously stretching her leg, and dragging it back to its previous position.

"You've never once tried to guess who I am." I shivered, but it definitely wasn't from the cold.

I had taken to sleeping without a shirt. She harped on me for covering my injuries, declaring they needed air in order to heal. Personally, I thought it was utter and complete bollocks, but it was easier to agree than to argue with her. She was always right. I was always wrong. She always knew the answers to everything, and I could just imagine her with her hand raised high over her head, begging the Professors to call on her….fuck.

"You never speak about yourself or your mates. Surely you must have them." I ignored the way my body responded to her subtle little touches.

"I think they're dead." She turned from me, flopping onto her other side, and I knew she was hurt. "I was…busy at the safe house. They were suspicious. They were always suspicious, and this time they weren't wrong. Kingsley said they…couldn't resist the allure of the hunt. They couldn't believe it was all over, and Hannah returning just…bolstered their confidences. I didn't believe them. I tried to talk them out of it, I always did, but they were tired of listening to reason. They waited until I was busy…and they just…they just left me behind." She sniffled, and I knew she was silently crying.

Despite my aloof nature, I couldn't stand the sound of a witch's tears. The first night Hannah spent on my cot was due to her incessant crying. This time was different, I suppose. Hesitantly, I crossed the small space between us and touched her shoulder.

Apparently, it was the correct thing to do, since almost immediately my arms were filled with sobbing witch. She clung to me, swallowing her sobs against my chest. My mother would have been proud. I shushed her, and held her tight, patting the soft cotton on her back.

"They're probably not dead. You're pretty fucking brilliant, even if you are a bit of a know-it-all, therefore I'd have to believe your mates aren't complete imbeciles." I was pretty much utter and complete shit at comfort, but she laughed.

The top of her head brushed against my chin, and I knew she was wiping the tears from her eyes. The comfortable silence we had lived in, was suddenly very uncomfortable, and I had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with our suggestive positions. I didn't want to move, I liked the way she felt, more than I should have.

"How long have I been here?" I was hesitant to answer, but only because she was so fucking close.

"Ninety-seven days." I managed to speak through my teeth without moving my lips.

"I like this." She touched my chest, her palm brushing across my left nipple, and I inhaled deeply through my nose. "I shouldn't like this."

"Please, do tell me all about it." I was trying to be flippant, but I was failing miserably. My skin was hot, and I swore I could feel my pulse in my cock.

"I shouldn't like this…because of who you are…because of who I am." She kissed my collarbone and my fingers dug into her hip. "You're blind aren't you?"

"Fifty points to Gryffindor." I was floundering in uncharted territory.

I wanted to push her away as much as I wanted to draw her closer. The soft cotton t-shirt she had taken to wearing rode high on her hip, and I struggled to keep from crinkling it in my fist. The tips of my fingers grazed the back of her thigh, and she gasped against my throat.

"How did you know?"

"Logical deduction. You're not devious enough to be Slytherin. You're wicked smart, and you care loads, but you struck out on your own after your mates deserted you, which just screams Gryffindor." I was literally speaking against her lips, and her breaths were growing shorter.

"Do you know who I am, Malfoy?" She'd never alluded to my name, not in all the days we'd spent conversing. I didn't hate it.

"I have my suspicions, but, I'll let you in a little secret." I rolled her onto her back, and I could definitely feel my cock twitching. It made me feel powerful, it made me feel whole. "I. Don't. Care."

Of course, I kissed her. I'd like to say it was a romantic, heart-stopping experience, but it wasn't. It was accidentally hitting her chin, and laughter with mumbled apologies. It was her knee grazing my cock just a little too hard, and groans. It was soft breaths and tongues and hands investigating every inch of exposed skin as well. Don't get me wrong, it was hot as fuck, but it wasn't perfect, but then again, neither were we.

We were broken shells of the people we used to be. We were hiding in the darkness, finding comfort in the only companion nearby. We were falling headlong into an abyss that neither of us knew had an end or even a beginning.

I was losing myself in a witch whose face I hadn't seen, but whose soul spoke volumes to mine. I was breaking all of the rules I had so vehemently set for myself. I wasn't remaining apathetic and aloof. I wasn't ignoring her, I was drowning in her. I was fucked.


	11. 11 - Blaise

I don't want to be here. I never wanted to be here. I should have listened to anyone and everyone that wasn't a Slytherin, and gone into hiding. I shouldn't have been so utterly conceited. I shouldn't have been so dismissing. I shouldn't have hated anyone except for the Dark Lord.

I had walked the streets with some pep in my step, and what did it get me? I thought it would open doors for me. I thought I'd finally have a cushy life. I thought, I'd finally be accepted for being fatherless, because at least I was Pureblood.

None of that mattered. It didn't matter that I was Pureblood. It mattered that I hadn't made my declarations. I hadn't sworn my allegiance. I hadn't aided Death Eaters and Snatchers when it came to capturing, maiming, and killing.

I didn't want too. I didn't watch to cut down witches and wizards that I had once walked passed in the corridors of Hogwarts. We might not have been friends, but I knew their names. They weren't strangers.

The Order of the Phoenix had attempted to recruit me, more than once. I didn't want to fall in that lot. I didn't want to fall in with any lot, but my choices were stripped from me. I should have listened to Potter. There are moments, when I replay our short conversation, and curse myself.

 _"Zabini, you could do a bit of good for the world." Harry Potter had come out of hiding only long enough to grab my arm and hurry me into Muggleland._

 _I didn't like it out there. There was entirely too much unknown. The Muggles had no idea what was happening in the world, and they seemed content in their ignorance. It made me uneasy._

 _"I don't want to do any good. I don't want to do any bad either. I just want to…yannow…fucking live." I kept ducking my head, expecting someone, anyone to throw a hex at me._

 _"You can't want to live in a world where Voldemort wins, Zabini. No one wants to live in that world except his deluded followers. They're a bit insane, not to mention exceedingly sadistic and stupid." If Potter hadn't had such a firm grip on my arm, I probably would have run away._

 _"Maybe not, but falling in with you lot signs my death warrant, and I'm not ready for all that. I'm not a Gryffindor. I'm not brave or courageous or whatever you call yourselves." I was scared, really scared. I mean, being seen with Harry Potter and not attempting to capture him was akin to betrayal._

 _"You could be brave. You could change the face of the war. You could utilise your Slytherin cunning for something good. Or, you could turn your back and probably wind up dead. Voldemort's Death Eaters aren't taking prisoners, not anymore. They're killing anyone that doesn't stand with them. You could be next." Potter slipped a scrap of parchment into my hand, and disappeared into the crowd of Muggles._

I should have read it sooner. I should have uncurled it and listened to the words scratched upon it. I should have chased after him, and begged him to take me in.

I didn't. I shoved that speck of paper into the pocket of my cloak and hurried back to Diagon Alley. It was a disastrous scene.

There were Death Eaters marching through the cobblestone streets, proudly sporting their masks. They hexed whomsoever got in their way with raucous laughter. I was frozen. In the face of madness, watching people fall to the wayside, I was frozen.

"You there!" I blinked and there was a Death Eater hulking over me. I couldn't even fumble for my wand. "I know you. You're coming with us."

I never knew his name. I didn't care to ask. I didn't…much of anything really. He pushed and shoved me, causing me to crash to my knees. He kicked me, laughing when I grunted and groaned. He was absolutely merciless.

"Please." I was pathetic. I knew I was. I had always imagined myself as a strong wizard, but in the face of adversity, I was a coward.

"Aw look at the Slytherin beg. You'll do wonderfully." He dragged me about by the tufts of black hair on my head, quite pleased with himself.

I wasn't surprised when we arrived at Malfoy Manor. Everyone knew the last vestiges of Death Eaters and Snatchers were holed up in the Manor. I wondered what happened to the Malfoys, but not enough to do anything about it. Draco and I were never particularly close, but we accepted each other.

I pissed myself. I admit it. You would have pissed yourself too if you had seen a floating apparition of the Dark Lord in the Malfoy Manor Drawing Room. I rubbed my eyes, but he was still there.

"Blaise Zabini." He spoke! I would have shit myself if I had anything to shit.

How the fuck was he alive? How did no one know he was alive? What was going on in the world? No wonder the Death Eaters hadn't surrendered after the Battle of Hogwarts. They knew what no one else knew. Lord Voldemort was alive. Sort of.

"Kneel you cretin!" Bellatrix. I shuddered when I heard her otherworldly shriek, before I was forced to my knees.

"You shall serve me. Nott, show him his quarters. I believe Draco's former bedchamber is fitting. Acquaint him with how things are done. I expect results or I shall take it from your flesh."

It was strange not to hear the little hiss that has always accompanied Voldemort's words. I was hesitant to look into his face. What if he still didn't have a nose and I was caught staring? I imagined certain death.

Theodore Nott helped me to my feet, after bowing heavily to the Dark Bastard, I noted. He allowed me to lean on his slight frame, which I needed. I swear that Death Eater had broken a rib or two.

"Can't believe he's giving you Malfoy's room. I've been here since the beginning, and I've been relegated to the fucking garden shed. Fucking bullshit if you ask me, not that anyone's asking me." Theo had always been a bit of a bitch, and it seemed that much hadn't changed.

"I don't even want to be here." I struggled to utter that much, each breath causing a piercingly sharp pain in my chest.

"Shut up. Are you trying to get yourself killed? You can't say things like that, not here." Theo and his stupid rabbity face shoved me into Malfoy's bedchamber and closed the door quickly behind us. "No one wants to be here. Well, that's not true. Bellatrix loves it here. She can't wait for the day when the Dark Lord has his own body and can thoroughly plunder her. Avoid her if you can. She'll shag nearly everyone and she'll call you the Dark Lord while she's doing it."

Theo dropped me onto the bed, and immediately began pulling off my shoes. I was glad he was there. I wouldn't have been able to do much on my own. Those loyalists had stolen my wand.

"Where's Malfoy?"

Theo had his wand and I finally shuddered in relief when he healed my ribs. He was always talented when it came to Healing Charms. I suppose that was due to his father.

"Dungeons. It's best not to discuss him. It gives Greyback ideas, and I don't have the constitution to heal him again." Theo gagged and shook his head, as if he were attempting to will away a particularly vicious memory.

"Why are you here, Nott? Do you really subscribe to all of this…Pureblood Supremacy, end the Muggles sort of regime?" I reclined upon the four-poster, comfortable and terribly nervous.

I didn't want to do the Dark Bastard's bidding. I didn't want to do anyone's bidding. I wanted to go home to my humble little flat. I wanted to drink until I could no longer see. I wanted to shag a witch, pass out, and do it all over again the next day. I didn't want much.

"I haven't a choice, Zabini. My father is here. Do you know what would happen to me if I attempted to defect? Don't think I haven't thought about it, I have. I know about the bloody garden shed, and I've kept that tidbit of information to myself. Don't look at me that way, I know you know about the tunnels. I can't get through them, only a Malfoy can, but even so, I've dreamt about it." Theo perched on the edge of the bed and sighed.

He looked a bit wistful, and I understood. His father was a tyrant, and it made me glad I didn't have a father. I didn't know what to say to him, so I closed my eyes and said nothing.

"Bellatrix caught Granger near the Manor. She's being used for spell practice. She looks rough."

"What the fuck is Granger doing here? Didn't she learn her lesson the first time? Without Granger the fucking Order doesn't have a chance." I punched the pillow beside me, nearly in tears.

Everyone knew Hermione Granger was the brightest witch. She was the brains behind the entire operation. It was often said Harry Potter was the Chosen One, but he wouldn't be much without her.

"It's obvious isn't it? Narcissa is with the Order. Lucius is dead, the only person she has left is Draco. If you're going to rescue your son, might as well send the best. Of course, I can't really call her the best now, can I? I mean, she got caught and all."

I had always appreciated Theo Nott's intelligence. He was never far behind Malfoy and Granger in terms of grades. I had barely come to terms with my imprisonment, and Theo was a dozen steps ahead. At least I was quick on my feet, and knew he was contemplating the idea of escape.

"What…are you suggesting, Nott? I've barely got here and you're already speaking of breaking out. You've been here for years, why now? Why haven't you done anything until now?" I probably should have sat up or something, but fuck him, I was exhausted.

I had half a mind to tell him of my conversation with Harry Potter, but I didn't quite trust him yet. He was too forward, too excited. Something wasn't quite right. I stared at him hard, and then I saw it. I almost felt sorry for him, almost.

Theo Nott was always the wizard that lurked in the shadows. His nose was always in some book or another. His features were angled and when he was startled, he truly reminded me of a rabbit. He was nearly the equivalent of Granger, but he clung to his father's ideals, while she just wanted a bit of equality.

His appearance was a test. I knew that now. I was almost sad. It would have been nice to have an ally in a houseful of vipers. I really should have listened to Harry Potter.

"I don't know, Zabini, but I'm sure between the two of us, we could do it. We could escape the Manor. Hell, we could bring Granger and Malfoy with us. Could you imagine how grateful the Order would be to have their little princess back safely?" Theo smiled, and Theo never smiled.

I pretended to consider his words, nodding slowly. In the end, I sighed and shook my head. I couldn't play into his hands. I couldn't rest. I had to embrace my Slytherin heritage and revert to being the sly, cunning, and absolutely devious wizard I had been when I was a student in Hogwarts. The green glint lingering in Theodore Nott's eyes bade me so.

"Look, I can't say I wanted to be here or anything, but now that I'm actually here? It's not so bad, Nott. I mean, Malfoy's bedchamber is larger than my entire flat. I'm fairly certain there's a cache of spirits as well. If the Dark Lord wishes me to bend to his will while I'm here, well, there are worst things in life. I could be a prisoner of Harry fucking Potter and frankly, I'd rather drown in a vat of my own blood than deal with that ponce."

Theo blinked slowly, and a sly smile broke across his thin lips. He nodded, suddenly pleased. He brushed the invisible lint off his dark slacks and stood without ceremony. The mannerisms were not Theo's. I didn't know which Death Eater was using him as their personal puppet, but it was definitely someone. I didn't spend my life surrounded by wizards who utilised Unforgivables as child's play without the ability to spot the Imperious Curse.

"Well done, Zabini. Rest. Malfoy is receiving special attentions. You'll escort him back to the dungeons. Whatever he wishes, you shall provide, except of course…his freedom." Theo laughed, or whoever was pulling his strings laughed and left the bedchamber without another word.

I replayed the conversation in my head numerous times over the next few weeks. I was never able to surmise who controlled Theo on occasion, but that didn't matter. Whoever it was, knew about the tunnels, and found them impenetrable, which worked well for me. I couldn't utilise them either, but that didn't bother me. If I could get Malfoy out, he'd come back for me. We're Slytherin. We always pay our debts.

I treaded carefully. I wanted to survive, and Hermione Granger was my best bet. I didn't know how I was going to engage her. She wasn't especially forthcoming, not even after I arranged for better accommodations.

You'd think she'd be thankful, but her main concern was Malfoy. I had to stand before the Dark Lord and request a fucking feather bed and a bathing tub for a prisoner, and all she could muster was a simply 'thank you'. I would have been insulted, but her concern for her one-time enemy was almost touching. If I cared about such things.

It didn't take me long to discern Malfoy's blindness. It was more prominent when Granger was asleep. He didn't try as hard and bumped into things quite often. He never seemed to notice me hiding in the shadows either.

Their conversations were so fucking boring. They didn't even talk about anything personal, unless, I didn't understand their inflections. They barely mentioned Potter, the Order, or even Narcissa, which was bullshit. I knew that Mudblood bitch knew something.

I don't know how Malfoy managed to keep his hands off her. Oh right, he couldn't see her. I could, and her body was fantastic. I wouldn't have minded a romp or two, but she was off-limits. Bellatrix had gone and ruined it for everyone, stupid bitch.

I was surprised to learn Malfoy knew his feminine guest was the Mudblood. I was even more surprised to learn he didn't care. It seemed he truly was desperate, which absolutely worked in my favour. Desperate men resort to desperate measures.

I expected them to snog regularly after that first disaster, but they didn't. It made me wonder if Malfoy was still depressed about the loss of his cock. It was still attached and all, but what good was a man if his parts didn't work?

My duties were pretty limited, which was for the best. I didn't have the slightest bit of interest in interrogating whomever Greyback dragged back to the Manor. I wasn't interested in murdering them either. I just fucking wanted out.

"I know you're there." Granger scared the piss out of me. No, not literally, thank you very much. "You've been there quite often. You want something. Are you spying on us, is that it? Do you think we harbour some secret you can utilise to rise up the ranks?"

"You're still a bitch." I stepped near the bars and lit a sconce, pleased to see Malfoy was a slumber.

"Some things don't change, Zabini. What do you want?"

I laughed. She might still be a bitch, but she amused me. I didn't trust her, she didn't trust me. It would definitely be interesting to see how this worked out.

"I want you to help me…help you." I smiled, but she didn't.

It annoyed me. I was used to witches fawning over me. It seemed the little Gryffindor Princess was enamored with a completely different Slytherin, and that Slytherin wasn't me. I didn't much like that. I hadn't considered her developing feelings for Malfoy. That wasn't part of the equation. I had wished to have her eating out of my hand, but it wasn't meant to be.

"Oh, you're disappointed I'm not batting my eyes at you. Isn't that sweet? I'm not a fool, Zabini. You have an agenda. You don't wish to help me, you wish to help yourself, and if that happens to help me, than so be it. I don't need your help, but Malfoy here does. Why not put your knowledge to good use and get him out of here?"

I wanted to throttle her. I didn't, but only because I couldn't. I had learned my lesson when returning Malfoy to his cell. Those enchantments were the strongest I'd ever witnessed. It had to have been blood magic, most likely the work of his mother.

Everyone knew those sorts of protections were impossible to breech. Voldemort had tried with stupid Harry Potter and it had rendered him useless. He wasn't apt to try again. No wonder he delegated when it came to the dungeons. He was…afraid, and that knowledge gave me power.

"I would, but I can't, at least not yet. The Dark Lord is busy trying to reclaim humanity, and I prefer to remain out of sight. He's barely more than a ghost, but he still wields incredible power, not to mention he's got Bellatrix wrapped around his…whatever."

I didn't like her, and I didn't want to help her anymore, but there wasn't a choice in the matter, not really. If I had any hope of regaining my freedom, I needed her. That gave her power, and well, I fucking hated that. I was going to have to change tactics. I was going to have to circumvent Granger, and strike up a bargain with Malfoy.

Everything was a mess. I should have listened to Harry Potter.


	12. 12 - Narcissa

She had been gone far too long. I spent nearly every moment wondering if her cold, limp body would be discovered in a darkened alley. I shouldn't have asked her to go. I shouldn't have begged her. I shouldn't have…too many things, but it was too late now.

Harry Potter was no longer speaking to me. I suppose I should have been grateful for the reprieve, but instead, I felt guilty. I didn't like it in the least. I don't know how others managed to walk around with such a weight in their chest. It was downright awful.

"He'll forgive you." Arthur Weasley was my greatest comfort.

I know. It's shocking to admit it, let alone to say such things. I probably should have been glowering at him and continuing our ancestral feud, but I was too tired for such things. My fire for hatred had died with my husband.

"He'll forgive me if she is as resilient as we all hope she is." I sighed into my teacup and resisted the urge to sneer at the stale leaves.

"She's alive. She's got to be. I couldn't bear it if…" Mr Potter stumbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and if I had been his mother, I would have embraced him.

I was a mother, but I wasn't his mother. I couldn't be what he needed when my son was imprisoned in the doldrums of the Manor. It was selfish, I realised this, but I simply couldn't.

"Have you discovered the location of the blasted snake?" I changed the subject quickly, as I needed to focus on something, anything other than sadness.

Mr Potter slumped in the seat nearest Arthur and clutched his head in his hands. His body language spoke volumes. I was well aware of the fact he had spent more time attempting to breach Malfoy Manor than focusing on important intelligence that had the capacity to end this war.

"There are only three locations on the list. She wrote them in riddles, and let's face it, it took me longer than it should have to unravel them. One of the locations is impossible for me to penetrate, as it is within the Manor." Mr Potter shoved a stale bit of toast into his mouth, and it was the most I'd seen him eat in days.

"And the other two?" I was unrelenting. He had a job to do. He knew he had a job to do, and yet he would rather mourn.

"Look. I can't be expected to do everything." The poor Potter boy actually sounded a bit resigned. Almost as if he had just discovered his mortality.

"Harry, no one is expecting you to do everything." Arthur frowned at me, but what did I care? "I believe…Narcissa here is simply attempting to distract you."

No, I really wasn't. I was at my wit's end with all the moping about. How this lot thought they were going to win the War was beyond me. They spent more time making plans and eating biscuits then they did actually implementing anything. Something had to be done. Someone needed to take charge of this ragtag group of misfits and turn them into a proper army.

"No, I wasn't. I was thinking perhaps you might focus on that which you can control rather than that which you cannot. Hermione is currently a Prisoner Of War. Something has gone horrifically wrong despite our best-laid plans, and what have we done? We've lamented our losses and stalled our efforts. I don't know about you lot, but I've had quite enough of this dastardly war. You are supposed to be the Chosen One, Harry Potter, and it's high time you acted as such. Hermione Granger might be the brightest witch of the age, but it is not up to her to stop a madman. Such gifts were laden upon you when you were nothing more than a babe. You didn't ask for it. You didn't want it. If given a choice, I'm positive you'd rather have your parents and your Godfather by your side, but that is an impossibility. Enough now, do what you were born to do." I rose from my seat and blinked, realising I had nearly been shouting.

Arthur Weasley looked absolutely aghast, and I faltered for a moment. Perhaps, I had gone a bit too far. It would never do apologise. I wasn't raised to believe such mundane things were acceptable. Instead, I blinked slowly and arched my brows. I dared Harry Potter to refute my words, with the hint of a sneer on my lips.

"Alright. Arthur, send a Patronus." Harry Potter nodded, his fingertips strumming in a soothing sort of manner across the worn grooves in the wooden table.

"Who am I sending for, Harry?" Arthur awkwardly patted Mr Potter's back, but he was attentive.

"Everyone. I want them all here within the hour."

I had plans of making myself scarce. I had never found my place within the Order. They were wary of me, and well, who could blame them? I was a Death Eater. I was the only woman to be within the Inner Circle without a Dark Mark burned into my skin. I was the enemy.

As for their lot, well, they were insufferably optimistic, and I simply cannot tolerate so much happiness. I'm Slytherin, we're not bred for such things. We're a morose group of cunningly sly witches and wizards, but there is love there. I suppose the same could be said for the ragtag group of Gryffindors, but must they express it so often?

I attempted to vacate the modest kitchen, but I was waylaid. It seemed Mr Potter wished me to remain; if the darkening of his green eyes was any indication. He pointed to a well-worn wooden chair at the very head of the table. I was not one to bow to anyone's demands so easily, but I also did not wish to row with the boy, therefore, I sat.

"You manipulated me. You wanted me to be angry." Harry growled, but it didn't hold nearly the fire my husband's ire had, and therefore I was not intimidated in the least.

"Well, moping about was getting you nowhere, now was it?" I blinked slowly and easily remained calm in the face of his misplaced anger.

"You set Hermione on a mission and you…you…"

"Mr Potter, make no mistake. I merely provided the knowledge required. Ms Granger took it upon herself to be all…Gryffindor about things. The Minister for Magic allowed us to do such things. Should you not be taking your ire out on him? I am nothing more than a desperate mother, willing to go to the ends of the earth for her only child." I tapped my ragged fingernails along the grooves in the wood, suddenly weary.

"Yeah alright. I'll have a word with him, but he's the Minister for Magic." Harry groaned and slammed his clammy palms onto the table, expecting me to be startled, but I wasn't. "She's Hermione Granger. She never says no. She's got the biggest heart I've ever known and she cares about him. She cared about him before she even left, and you knew it. You knew it and did nothing to dissuade her." He was pointing at me, which I found quite rude honestly.

"Hmm, and how would you have liked me to go about such a thing? I did not barrage her in lovely little anecdotes. I gave her the truth, which is more than you've done. Did you think she wasn't aware of your plans to leave her behind? She's a brilliant woman, and quite capable of knowing her own mind. I do believe she would be more than a little insulted by your bravado." I pushed away from the table and knocked my chair over in my abruptness.

I strode passed the quivering Harry Potter, intent upon retiring to my room for the evening. My hands were in the midst of pushing the door when Harry grasped my forearm. I turned to only see immense pain in green eyes.

"She's been lonely. I knew that, but I wanted to end this war. Your son has been housed in the dungeons for what is it? Five years at this point, therefore it's safe to assume he's lonely as well. He's going to be drawn to her. He won't be able to resist it. She needs to be needed, and he needs her. She's going to fall in love with him, hell, she was nearly there before she fucked off. Ron will never forgive her." Harry Potter hung his head, slightly dejected, and I nearly felt sorry for him.

"My dear, Harry, I wasn't aware Hermione Granger required anyone's forgiveness."

There was no need to wait for a reply. What else was there for him to say? It was time for Harry Potter to cease and desist with his childhood dreams. He might very well have found happiness with the young Weasley girl, but only a fool would believe Hermione capable of finding long-term happiness with the unpleasant Ronald Weasley.

The only thing I wished to do was retreat to my bedchamber. I also wished to heavily Silence it while the Order was doing whatever it is they do. I simply did not wish to be a willing participant as far as their raucous behaviour was concerned.

"Cissa?" Arthur Weasley waylaid me.

He was standing just outside my assigned bedchamber, with a silly little hat crumpled in his hands. It really was quite adorable, though I'd never admit to such things. He had a way about him and had really come into his own since his wife's untimely departure.

I suspected she was the sort of woman that ruled her home without compromise, yet I didn't dare judge her too harshly. Everything she did was out of love, and I could not blame her, even if I wished to do so. She had a family that had loved her dearly, they still do, they probably always will, and I have a self-imprisoned son and a dead husband.

"Will you be joining us?" He quirked his head to the side and studied me.

There was something in his eyes. I had seen it before and ignored it. It was different this time. We weren't surrounded by the senseless chatter of the other house occupants. We weren't across the room from each other, we were actually ridiculously close.

Our relationship had altered somewhat, since Hermione's departure. I liked the way Arthur explained my brusque nature to the shamefully sensitive Harry. I liked the way he looked out for me, keeping me company in the late evening.

I missed Hermione Granger. I was nearly shamed by the realisation, but Arthur was quick to point out, Hermione was the sort of woman that was easy to love. We never discussed our deceased spouses, and I suppose it was for the best. I knew something was growing, perhaps we were both aware, something was growing between us, but I couldn't name it.

"I thought perhaps it would be best if I remained out of sight." I stretched forward in order to grasp the door handle, but his warm hand covered mine.

I didn't pull away. I didn't do much of anything really. I stared at his pale freckled hand covering mine and ignored the flutterings in my stomach.

I don't know how it happened, and frankly, I can't believe I'm even admitting to such things. It's new, in the early stages of nothing more than knowing glances, but even I know it's headed somewhere. It's completely uncharted territory.

I've never had the opportunity for attraction. My husband was chosen for me by my father, as was my mother's before me. I hadn't ever entertained the idea of anything different.

I had even gone so far as to plan my son's matrimony to an appropriate witch of my choosing. Arthur Weasley had changed all that, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He was kind when I needed kindness. After spending decades with Lucius Malfoy's cold exterior, I must admit, it was titillating to be surrounded by warmth.

"I think that's a terrible idea." Arthur smiled kindly, and I hesitated before returning it.

"The Order prefers when I make myself scarce. I do not wish to upset them, and in turn, overstay my welcome. I haven't anywhere else to go." My voice was raspy, which I didn't like in the least, and I blame Arthur.

He twisted the knob, with my hand beneath his, and the door swung open silently. He stepped into my bedchamber and pulled my hand lightly, yet I hadn't a choice but to follow him. I watched him shut the door as he stood exceedingly close to me.

"You're not a prisoner here, Cissa." Arthur's thumb stroked over the back of my hand, and I was completely out of sorts. "The Burrow is empty most days. It seems my sons prefer to be here at Headquarters. Can't say that I blame them. I've discussed some things with them. They know as much as I, it's been years, and living in the past is no way to live. You're welcome to Floo over whenever you like." Arthur flushed, and it was just so bloody endearing, I kissed him.

I suppose I believed he would be a docile sort, but that wasn't the case. His fingers dug into my hips and he pulled me into him, with a strength I hadn't expected. His lips, while soft, were searching and firm, making it second nature to relax in his embrace.

"I'm going to be sick."

"Definitely not before I'm sick."

The Weasley twins burst into my bedchamber and soon segued into faux gags, which were the epitome of bad taste. They were a mischievous pair, and how they had been Sorted into Gryffindor was anyone's guess. They definitely had a decidedly Slytherin nature, and that I could appreciate.

"Oh, uhm boys. It's not…it's not what you think." Arthur stepped away from me rather quickly, and I wasn't particularly fond of that.

"Sure looked like snogging to me, what about you, Fred?" George Weasley smiled easily, completely nonplussed by the situation.

"If it wasn't, we've been doing it wrong for ages." Fred Weasley winked at Narcissa, despite the furious blush on his father's cheeks.

"I do believe dad thinks we're addled."

"Or oblivious."

"That too. I suppose he thinks we haven't ears."

"Well, _you_ don't."

"Boys!" Arthur interjected quickly before they continued their banter.

I had to admit, I quite liked them. They weren't the sorts of men to skirt around an issue for the sake of others. They laced their every action with flashes of comedy, and considering our current situation, we needed a good laugh.

I knew they were plotting something, but that wasn't especially surprising. They reminded me of small children, always on their way, or coming from, trouble. Of course, they didn't dare include me in their pranks, not if they knew what was good for them.

"What are your intentions with our father?" Fred, at least I think it was Fred, stared me down, with squinted eyes.

"I think we're supposed to ask Dad that question," George interjected at his brother's elbow, quite seriously.

"Perhaps, but she's not our mother, yet she's shagging our father, or at the very least snogging him heavily. It's a perfectly appropriate question, George." Oh yes, George was the twin missing an ear, how unfortunate for him.

"Highly inappropriate!" Arthur squeaked, which strangely, I found quite endearing.

He stammered when he was nervous, or he spat half sentences, which was nearly the same. He constantly toyed with his thinning ginger hair and shuffled his feet. Arthur's cheeks were quite rosy, but I appreciated the way he stood in front of me, almost as though I needed protection.

"We haven't much time. The kitchen is already filled with loads of Order members. I don't know about George here, but I'd like an answer." Fred crossed his arms and had the nerve to tap his toes at me.

"Oh for heaven's sake. You'd think you'd never seen a man and woman kissing before now." I quickly tired of their shenanigans and sat on the edge of my bed.

I was tired, exhausted really. Contrary to Fred and George's warped opinion, it had nothing to do with their father, and everything to do with Hermione Granger. A fair amount of my stresses had to do with my son, but even after all this time, it still hurt terribly to think of him.

"Look what you've done! You've upset her. Now, boys, that's quite enough. I'm sure you could be doing a bit of eavesdropping downstairs, and leave us be." Arthur glared at his sons, and I was thankful for his interventions.

"Uh sorry?" Fred shrugged with a bit of supplication, and I couldn't remain angry with him. "We've known about you for ages."

"Absolute ages. Like dad said, we're quite aces at eavesdropping, though in retrospect, I wish we hadn't. Or, I wish…"

"You'd used Silencing Charms. That would have been lovely."

Fred and George shivered in an exaggerated fashion. I expected nothing less. I could have gone my entire life without knowing they had listened to Arthur and I during our secretive trysts. If I were a lesser witch, I would have blushed, but I wasn't a twitterpated teenager any longer.

"Yes, well, we'll keep that in mind…for the uhm…future." Arthur stammered, and his head continued to bob even after he'd stopped speaking.

There truly wasn't anything left to say, and yet the twins did not vacate my bedchamber. My patience was quite thin at this point, as I'm sure you could understand. I refused to lash out at them. They weren't my children, and I didn't feel like much of a mother in any case.

Arthur finally vacated his post and sat beside on the edge of the bed, and patted my knee. He had an intuition about him as if he could sense my need of comfort. Lucius had never been so attuned to my needs. He loved me, of that I was certain, but his emotional range was limited, much like my son's.

Fred and George were conversing so quietly, their words could not be heard over the roar of the Floo downstairs. It seemed the members of the Order were still arriving per Harry Potter's demand. Finally, the boys turned to face us, and I braced myself for their disapproval.

"It's been nearly six years since…" George began.

"Mum died and we think…" Fred easily continued where his brother left off.

"You deserve to be happy." They concluded together, and I felt Arthur's exhale more than heard it.

"Yes, well that's lovely, boys, thank you." Arthur bobbed his head, and I knew he didn't know what else to say to them, nor did I.

"Cissum, the Burrow has been relatively empty since the Not-So-Final-Battle. George and I stay here more often than not, and we've decided to live in the flat above our shop."

"Ron would rather stay here and keep an eye on Ginny, but that's incredibly stupid. She and Harry have been shagging for ages, and they're engaged now, but he's an idiot."

"I'd rather not discuss your sister's…." Arthur cleared his throat noisily, and I could have aided him, but where's the fun in that?

"Sex life." The twins smiled broadly and even had the audacity to wiggle their eyebrows in their father's direction. "We think you lot should discuss Cissum moving to the Burrow, is all." They shrugged together as they spoke together, and I couldn't help but wonder if they did everything else together as well.

"I'd like to discuss…Cissum." I pursed my lips together and dared them to mock me.

"You're practically a Weasley now, and no offence or anything but Narcissa is entirely too stuffy. Fred and I discussed it properly and decided Cissum suits you perfectly. You're sort of like a mum, but not our mum because you're Cissa Malfoy, and that's that. You'll just have to accept it. We've got to go now, don't tarry too long or we'll send the Minister for Magic up to retrieve you."

"Could you imagine his face if they were in flagrante?" Fred tossed back his head and laughed quite heartily.

"I'd rather not imagine any of that, Fred."

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, George dutifully dragged his brother Fred from my bedchamber. Finally, I could draw a slow breath in utter and complete silence. I knew my reprieve would be short-lived, but I also knew it would not be Arthur intruding upon the silence.

He was just as overwhelmed as I, if not more so, and it was completely understandable. I was certain he was processing the words of his sons, just the same as I. There was many a night when we reclined in silence, simply enjoying the companionship. It was difficult to be alone, especially after spending years with another sharing your bed.

"Cissa? Arthur?" Harry Potter opened the bedchamber door without knocking, and it was safe to assume the twins had told him nothing.

"Yes, Harry." Arthur sounded as tired as I felt, but we would persevere.

"Sorry, but everyone is gathered downstairs and well, I've received an owl." Harry scratched his head, and I really wished that terribly annoying habit would cease.

"From?" I wasn't in the mood to play such games after having dealt with the pranksters. I wished for a nap and a cup of tea, whichever came first would please me immensely.

"Zabini, Blaise Zabini. Hermione's alive."


	13. 13 - Draco

I was in a dangerous place. I was comfortable. I was enjoying the companionship, and the warmth of the witch snuggled into my side. She turned a difficult situation into something bearable, and that was dangerous.

I knew who she was, but I was so fucking lonely, I didn't care. I couldn't even muster up the barest hint of a sneer or untoward remark. She made me feel alive in a place where I had wished for death. What the fuck was wrong with me?

She murmured in her sleep, and I was quick to squeeze her just a bit tighter. I didn't like it when she moved away from me. It made me feel cold and alone. I didn't want to feel cold and alone ever again.

I had promised to get her out, but I didn't want to. I would. I knew I would. I couldn't allow her or anyone else to languish in the bowels of the Manor ever again. I was going to miss her, desperately if I was being honest.

I'd probably die here. I'd never see her, or feel her again. It would be worth it though. I like to think she'd move on after everything was said and done. I'd like to think she was just doing what was necessary, to ensure her survival. I'd like to imagine her happy, married with a handful of children, and smiling in the sunshine.

I hadn't realised I was actually, literally crying until she was wiping my eyes. I didn't know I was capable of shedding tears any longer. I didn't know I was capable of feeling particularly strongly for another human being anymore either, but I was.

"What's wrong?" She voice was low and soft, and it reminded me of my mother's.

"I've got to get you out." I ignored her question and focused on something else.

"You're doing it again. You have these moments of emotional vulnerability, and instead of facing them head on, you'd rather push me away and speak of sending me away." Her fingers stroked my scar littered chest, and I didn't hate it.

My cock still refused to function, but whenever she was angry with me, it twitched. I think my cock is a bit of a sadist. Its favourite moments are when she was shouting at me.

I felt her leave the bed, and from the rustle, I knew she was thrusting her lithe legs into a pair of slacks. I don't know why she bothered dressing all the time. There wasn't anywhere to go. There wasn't anyone to see.

I spent most of our time lounging about in bed until she'd force me up to bathe or some such nonsense. She was a bit of a slave driver. I should have argued with her. I should have minded, but I didn't.

"You can't stay here forever." I sat up against the headboard and turned my head toward the sounds of her bustling about in our small space.

"I'll leave when you leave." I imagined her with crossed arms and a deep frown, which wasn't especially farfetched.

"You're being ridiculous. I'm a prisoner and…"

"If you can get me out, you can get yourself out. You're choosing to stay here. You're choosing to punish yourself." She grasped my hand, and I nearly leapt from the bed.

I hadn't heard her move an inch. Instead, I was completely focused on her scathing words. I didn't like it when she made astute observations about my choices.

"You don't understand." My voice sounded small, even to me. I couldn't imagine how broken it sounded to her.

I swung my legs to the floor and winced as the icy stone came into contact with my skin. I had trouble standing to my full height. The amount of abuses I had suffered since my incarceration was taking a toll on my body. I deserved them, but even so.

"You're attempting to pay penance. I understand. You've made bad choices and people died, but this is War. Do you think I don't feel guilty for…well loads of things honestly. I don't want to punish myself. I don't want you to continue to punish yourself. I want us to get out of here." She was standing beside me, and I could feel her hands hovering near me on the off chance I fell.

"And what then? Am I just supposed to go on with my life? Am I supposed to find some pretty little witch that doesn't care if I can't see a wit, that doesn't care my cock doesn't work and live happily ever after? I don't fucking see that happening." I was being a wanker, but so what?

I managed to make my way to the loo, but I stubbed my toe on the stupid tub. I don't know why Zabini gave it to me, to us. I haven't used it once.

"You're not strong enough to stand. You should take a bath." Well, shit, looked like that was about to change.

I should have argued with her. I should have done anything other than stand there while she filled the bathing tub with water. I should have stopped her when she began unbuttoning my shirt, but I didn't.

I stood there and revelled in the sensation of her tiny hands pushing my shirt off my shoulders and grazing my bare skin. I could feel the gooseflesh littering my entire body, but she didn't comment on it. Ordinarily, I would have postured quite proudly if I had been starkers before a witch. Instead, I placed my hand on her shoulder and stepped into the tub.

There was no need for me to feel embarrassed over my nudity. She had bathed me for fuck's sake. She had already seen everything there was to see, so what did it matter?

"Your hair is in desperate need of a washing." She sighed and plunked some bottles near my elbow, but I didn't reach for them.

"Go on then." I was goading her, but my anger fueled my ability to live, without it, I was nothing. I was nothing regardless, but I felt a spark within, at least when I was angry.

She didn't rise to the occasion, sadly. She simply ran a cloth over my back and wet my hair. I thought I had died when her fingers scrubbed at my scalp. I probably moaned, but I didn't care. It felt absolutely divine.

"M-Malfoy, I uhm, I have a confession to make." She was a bit breathy in my ear, and I captured her wrist.

She had a terrible tendency to hide in the corners of our cell when she was in the process of saying something I didn't like. I don't know who had scared her into hiding before she had come here, but whoever had, was a right bastard. She shouldn't be afraid to speak her mind.

I suppose I had splashed a fair amount of water onto the floor, but who cared really. It wasn't like my mother was going to come and shout at me. My hand was slippery, and she tried to yank herself free, but that didn't work. Instead, she yelped and bashed her knee into the side of the tub. It was wicked of me, but I pulled her over the side.

"What was that?" I snickered and wished I could see the look of utter and complete outrage I knew was upon her face.

She sputtered a fair bit, grumbled under her breath, but it didn't bother me. In fact, I made easy work of her sopping wet shirt and tossed it to the floor. Her outrage was quite a turn on. There was something about her, and her fire. It made me wish my cock worked.

"Was that really necessary? Let me go." I liked it when she was angry. I'm probably a bit of masochist or sadist…or something.

"Oh come on, let me have a bit of fun. I've never taken a bath with an angry witch befo…" I paused, gulping hard.

She had attempted to vacate the bathing tub, but her socks were the issue. She couldn't gain purchase. I had attempted to lend aid and offered up a hand. She fell, and well, her delicious, smooth breast landed in my hand.

She turned her back to me, but that didn't stop me. In fact, her actions only provided me better access. I had the ability to hold both of her breasts in my hands and trap her against my chest.

"Malfoy, please." She sounded embarrassed, perhaps she was even blushing, but I wouldn't know.

My head was thumping, I could feel the blood rushing everywhere. I didn't know what she was asking me. Did she want me to continue to stroke her breasts? Did she want me to tweak a hardening nipple? I could do that. I did do that.

Her stupid slacks were chaffing my cock. Oh my gods, my cock. I could feel it hardening behind her back, and I was so fucking excited. It was better than Yule.

She kept speaking, saying things, asking me things, but I wasn't listening. I was busy. I tore off her trousers relatively easily, I mean, they were mine after all. I kept my arm around her waist, and she didn't struggle. She gasped, but she didn't try to escape me.

Her fingers were latched onto my thighs, which was hot as fuck, let me tell you. She kept saying 'please', and I was too consumed by whatever the hell this was, to respond. She was panting, I was panting. The water was sloshing out of the tub, but I don't think either of us cared much.

I don't know how it happened, I don't care how it happened. I was biting the side of her neck, sucking it even, while she whimpered. I had to touch her. I mean, I was touching her, but I needed more.

My cock was straining, aching for more, and it had been years since it had responded to anything. I had even resorted to begging, but it was her. She woke it, and I was afraid it would shrivel if I released her.

My left hand was filled with her breast, and I pulled on her nipple, twisted it even. My right hand, well, it wished to explore, and I wasn't about it stop it. It seemed neither was she. I stroked down her smooth abdomen, prepared to spread legs that were already open.

I wished I could see her face. I wished I could see her naked body. I wondered if her lips were parted, and her cheeks were flushed. I wondered if those desperate pleases meant she wanted me to continue or to stop.

"Tell me your confession." I grazed her inner thigh with my fingertips, and despite the rapidly cooling water, her skin was hot to the touch.

"I…I lied to you. I, uhm, ohhh." I caressed her weeping folds, gently, and I curiously wondered if the warm moisture on my fingers was the water or her fluids.

The exceedingly light circles I painted were driving her absolutely mad. Her hips flexed toward my hand, which only made me slightly withdraw. I enjoyed teasing her. I liked the way her ragged fingernails pierced my skin. I liked her muffled moans, but I wanted more.

"Go on, tell me." I bit her earlobe and swiped across a hardened bit of skin that intrigued me between her open thighs.

I had never driven a witch to orgasm. I had barely been able to drive myself to orgasm. Don't judge me. It's not like I had loads of time to go about shagging witches. It was War. I had a horrid task, and that kept me occupied and distracted.

"It…it did work when I bathed you. I just, I didn't want to admit it and embarrass you."

I wasn't quite sure what to say to that. It had been ages ago in terms of dungeon time. She had been with me for nearly three hundred days, or thereabouts. We had only kissed, snogged, what have you, that one time. I had wanted to snog her lips off for months, but I didn't want her to allow me to do such things out of pity.

It was an easy matter to glide a finger inside her. I felt powerful, and I hadn't felt powerful…pretty much ever. Every time I bumped that delicious bit of skin, she moaned. Her head smacked my collarbone and I winced, while I increased my pace the slightest bit.

"Anything else?" I tweaked her nipple while I thrust my fingers, and her bum pressed against my cock.

"I…I think I'm in love with you." Her voice cracked, and she shuddered against me.

Well, I definitely wanted to fuck her. It had been a passing thought before, but you can't confess to a bloke you think you love him while he's knuckle deep in your fanny, and think he won't wish to fuck you. I didn't even care if it was true. Don't get me wrong, it was a lovely thought. I mean as lovely as it can be, knowing you're going to die in your family's dungeon. I wanted it to be true, as much as I didn't. It would only end badly for her.

Somehow, she turned around, and I nearly died. I had seen a naked witch before, most every lad had. There are wonderful moving pictures for such things, but to feel one? Well, that was fucking heaven on earth.

She was on her knees, which only made things better. Her quivering fanny rubbed against the underside of my cock with every tiny movement. I wanted to be buried in her. It would change everything, even I knew that, but I still wanted it. I was a wizard living on borrowed time as it was.

She was kissing me. She was really kissing me. Her arms came around my neck. Her breasts, her beautiful, beautiful breasts were flattened against my chest, and my hands were full of Gryffindor. I kneaded her supple arse and realised I could utilise my long arms to continue to stroke her sex.

She gasped into my mouth, which quickly turned into a moan. If she kept it up, I was going to come all over her. I knew the general logistics, but it's not as if I were accomplished when it came to shagging. Awkwardly, I reached between us and adjusted myself, and bumped against her swollen lips.

"Wait." She broke away from my lips, her hard nipples scraped against me, and I nearly fucking died.

"Do you…not want me to shag you?" I suckled her breast, nipped it with my teeth, and pulled on it hard.

"Not in the tub, Malfoy." She had a point, but I didn't want to let her go.

I had never felt this way about any witch. It would have been easy to blame it on the circumstances. We had been locked together for two hundred and ninety-seven days exactly, but even so. The attraction had been there from nearly the beginning. I hadn't felt it with Hannah. I hadn't felt it with anyone else. It figures the one witch to awaken me, and make me wish to live would be Hermione Granger. Talk about irony.

My entire body was thrumming and it was a bit unnerving. I had spent so long pushing away everything vaguely resembling an emotion, I was overwhelmed. I wanted to follow her to the bed. At least, I hoped that's where she was going.

It took me a moment to collect my thoughts. They weren't remotely collected, but I did the best I could. I struggled to get out of the bathing tub, but then my feet were slapping on the frigid stone, and I was cold.

For the first time since she began climbing into bed with me, I hesitated. Was I supposed to just climb beneath the covers? Was I supposed to ask her if it was all right? I didn't know how any of this worked.

The hazy film over my eyes didn't keep me encased in utter and complete darkness. It had in the beginning, but something had happened. It had lessened and allowed me to at least see shapes and light when it was available.

She was sitting up in bed, from what I could discern. I just sort of stood there, stupidly, and then she folded back the heavy blankets. I supposed that was a bloody invitation if there ever was one.

"You shouldn't." I don't know why I said that as I climbed in beside her, but I felt it needed to be said.

"Shouldn't…what?" She immediately sidled into my side, and she was still nude.

My throbbing erection was no longer throbbing, nor could it be considered an erection. It was playing some sort of half-mast game, and I didn't like it. That all changed when she licked my earlobe.

"Love me. You shouldn't love me, Granger." It was impossible to keep a clear head when she was touching me.

"That's uhm, that's not for you to decide, Malfoy." The little vixen straddled my lap.

I couldn't argue with that. We were both incredibly nervous, which made me feel better. It was nice not to feel alone, not to be alone. We were about to venture down an unfamiliar road together.

When I pressed my lips against hers, my limbs relaxed. I was no longer a randy teen, anxious to shag any available witch. I was a man, and I wished to explore the landscape. She wasn't littered with scars and damaged like I was. She was incredibly soft and smooth, with voluptuous mountains and valleys.

I hadn't the slightest idea what I was doing, but she seemed to like it. By this time, I had two fingers lodged inside her, moving them to and fro, while she moaned quite loudly in my ear. When those delicious little pants slowed, I adjusted, which apparently was the proper thing to do.

I almost withdrew when her knees began to tremble, but her head was on my shoulder and at that point, she was doing all the work. She flexed her hips, causing her breasts to scrape across my chest. She was nearly crying, but then I felt it.

It was amazing. I felt her contracting, shuddering, spasming against my hand. I felt warm liquid cover my fingers, and I didn't know it was like that for women. She sagged against me, nearly choking on her gasps, but I wasn't nearly done with her, not yet.

I stroked myself a bit, which was difficult, considering Granger hadn't moved an inch. I managed. It had been fucking five years, near six for Salazar's sake, since my cock had worked properly, and I wasn't going to waste another moment.

I pushed her off me but in a gentle sort of manner. She tossed an arm over her head, and I slipped between her legs. She bent her legs, which gave me better access while I fumbled. I appreciated the fact she didn't aid me. This was something I needed to do for myself.

There wasn't a chance in hell I was going to last. I knew that the moment I pressed forward. She hissed, and her arms came around me, as she stroked over the gifts from a werewolf on my back. I knew to move slowly. I knew I could hurt her if I didn't and I didn't want to hurt her.

There was a bit of resistance and then I remembered. I remembered her terrible lie and I felt a wave of guilt. I shouldn't be the man that took this from her. I didn't deserve it. My father said it was a gift and could only be bestowed once. He said I shouldn't take such a gift lightly and I never had. I'd never had the opportunity and while these might be my last days, I couldn't do it.

Of course, Granger being Granger had a completely different thought. The bloody minx locked her legs around my hips and pulled me forward. She winced, but it was too late. I was buried hilt deep in Hermione Granger and it was fucking divine.

"You were taking too long. You were overthinking it." She was so bloody matter of fact about it, I nearly laughed.

Instead, I started to move. I thought being inside her couldn't feel any better but I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. She was warm, wet, and tight. It was like a perfect little hug, especially for my cock.

My body was on fire. I swore my skin was going to burst into flames as the sweat broke across my brow. I didn't last long, I knew I wouldn't, but I vowed that would not be the last time I felt like that. When I spilt into her, I grunted and dug my fingers into the waning flesh at her hips. She clung to me and feverishly laid open-mouthed kisses across my cheeks until our lips met.

"I've never done that before," I whispered between kisses, while I simultaneously wondered how I would manage without her kisses for the rest of my short life.

"Me either." She laughed lightly and continued to rake her fingernails up and down my back in a lazy sort of manner.

I didn't mind her touching my greatest shame. It was inexplicably soothing, and frankly, it reminded me of my mother. It also made me exceedingly tired, but I didn't want to sleep, not yet.

"Can we do it again?"

"You're joking." She pushed on me, but I wasn't moving. I was perfectly content to lie between her legs.

"Granger, my cock hasn't…risen to the occasion for nearly a lifetime at this point. Believe me, I've counted. I've got a lot of making up to do."

She sighed, and I knew something was wrong. Perhaps I had unintentionally hurt her. Perhaps she regretted being with me. I didn't know what was wrong, but I could feel it in the way her body stiffened, and how she turned her head from me.

"Uh, I don't think I can right now. I'm a bit…sore, and you're not, especially small." I touched her cheek and based on the temperature, I knew she was blushing. "Go rinse off or something. I'll do something for you instead."

I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but it was best not to argue. I had learned to pick my battles and I certainly wasn't going to choose to row with her after having had sex. I wasn't stupid.

I'm not going to tell you what she did. I'll save that for her to share if she chooses. Suffice it to say, it was utterly marvellous. I wanted to spend the rest of my life buried in her, but I couldn't. I didn't know how much longer I could go on once I set her free.

I hated her, and I didn't all at once, which made me feel pretty fucking conflicted, let me tell you. I hated her for awakening me after I had been asleep for so long. I hated her for making me want to fight, to want to live, in a place where there wasn't the slightest bit of hope. I also treasured every moment, because I remembered what it was like to matter to someone.

"You're afraid." She kissed my collarbone, and of course, my cock twitched.

"Don't…analyze me, Granger."

She was going to ruin my euphoria. I was utterly and completely sated for the first time in my entire life. I wanted to revel in it for a bit, but she wanted to talk.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. I mean, I'm not complaining necessarily, but your mother is going to be furious with me. On the other hand, maybe she planned this all along. I haven't quite decided yet." Granger sighed and tossed her head, which caused me to smirk.

"You miss your hair. What is this nonsense about my mother?"

We'd been together nearly a year, and not once had she mentioned my mother. We spoke of many things, but never anything beyond our current predicament. We were protecting ourselves; but what point did that serve now?

"I know I miss my hair. I miss many things, Malfoy." She quickly flipped onto her side and brushed my long hair out of my face.

I wasn't particularly fond of the length of my hair. It reminded me of my father and I didn't wish to remember him. It wasn't as if I had a pair of shears about, so I couldn't rectify the situation.

"I don't miss anything. I've forgotten more than I remember. I've been here so long. I don't imagine I'll ever see the light of day again. I'll die here and that's probably for the best." I was being morose, but my options were limited.

"Don't say that. We're going to get out of here, Malfoy. Your mother is safe. She sent me here. Well, I agreed to be sent here, though it wasn't supposed to go quite like this. We had a plan, and everything sort of…didn't go the way we had planned at all. I have an idea though, and if it works…" She trailed off, with a dejected sort of puff.

It was obvious it was quite difficult for her to tell me of my mother. It was difficult for me to hear of her. I had thought she was as dead as my father, quite honestly. The idea that my mother had spoken at length to Hermione Granger, was slightly disconcerting. What on earth did they have in common?

I didn't want to think about it anymore. I knew we would be forced to revisit the topic again, but it simply wasn't the time, because I said so. I wasn't ready to relinquish my fragile hold on newfound emotion, and speaking of my mother would force me back into the darkness.

Instead, I turned on my side and sighed a bit. I desperately wished I could see her. I would have done anything to make it so.

"Granger," I sighed, as I leaned into her hand, which still caressed my cheek, "you are the worst rescue team in history."


	14. 14 - The Narrator

Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley scurried from the confines of Grimmauld Place in the dead of night. They might have had fleeting thoughts of recklessness, but such thoughts were quickly dismissed. It wasn't the first time they had been in such a position, and it probably wouldn't be their last.

They had their rucksacks packed, not nearly as precise as Hermione Granger would have done for them, but they couldn't risk it. They didn't want to risk it. They had seen the Wanted posters sporting her wild mane, and they wished nothing more than to protect her.

It was foolishness on their part, but it was far too late to correct their errors. They hadn't the slightest idea where they were headed, and they imagined Hermione shaking her head at their foolishness, which brought them comfort.

"Do you know where to start?" Ronald Weasley was the first to break the silence, while he and Harry avoided the most populated areas of the Wizarding World.

Harry had not confided in Ron as far as the whisperings in his head. He knew there would be scepticism, and chose to avoid it, if possible. The Minister for Magic had been unwilling to listen, and while Ron was exceedingly loyal, he also had a temper. Harry didn't enjoy the thought of traipsing through the countryside, or anywhere else really, alone. He hadn't Hermione by his side this time to break up the din.

"Godric's Hollow is as good a place as any."

Ron nodded slowly, as he recognised the determined glint in the familiar green eyes, and shrugged. It was better than any idea he had. Vaguely, he wished he had brought Narcissa's pancakes along for a bit of a snack.

Harry knew Godric's Hollow was important to Tom Riddle, but it would never be as important to anyone, as it was to him. It was the place his parent's had lived. It was the place he was born. It was the place his mother had sacrificed herself. It was the place he had been marked by a Prophecy that had altered his entire life.

"How long do you suppose it'll take Hermione to suss out what we've done?" Ron ambled along beside Harry, as they ducked behind trees when the clouds cleared and the moon shone brightly down upon them.

"She's probably having tea with Cissa and grumbling that we've left her behind. I don't know if she'll forgive us for this…" Harry sighed, and adjusted his pack, while he made a mental note to use a Charm to lighten it later.

"She'll forgive us if we find that last horcrux. She won't be able to stay angry with us. Perhaps, she'll entertain the idea of being with me then. I reckon I could be a hero if we succeed. Girls seem to like that." Ron smiled happily, and Harry ignored his mate's implications.

He knew as well as anyone, Hermione was never going to settle for Ron. She loved him, of course, she did, but it wasn't enough. She needed to be challenged, and Ron wasn't the right sort of wizard for that.

"I think she's planning a rescue," Harry mumbled and cringed, as he realised he had spoken aloud.

"A rescue for who? Hannah's back and everyone else is hidden away. There's no one left, Harry." Ron waved his arms about, and Harry knew Ron was angry.

"It was just a thought. She's been spending loads of time with Narcissa, and well, Narcissa has only one thing on her mind these days." Harry grasped Ron by the elbow and led him into a dark alley.

He surveyed the area, while he listened carefully for sounds of humanity, but came up empty. He kept a firm hold on Ron's arm and warned him to remain silent with a simple look. Ron nodded and swallowed hard. He didn't have particularly fond memories as far as Side-Along-Apparition was concerned, but he trusted Harry.

The crack in the air probably would have made them jump, if they had been present. Instead, a pair of narrowed soulless eyes smiled nastily and easily followed. It wasn't difficult to follow the traces of Magic in the air, if one was well versed in such things.

The Dark Lord had been quick to instruct his best Death Eaters in Tracking. It was a skill he revered, and necessary when hunting down enemies. The majority of his loyal followers had been killed in battle or captured, but the ones that remained were rabidly loyal.

Selwyn was as heartless as his cousin, Dolores Umbridge. He also was just as ambitious. His dreams of dragging Harry Potter before Lord Voldemort was why he crept about Islington, as he knew the boy hid amongst Muggles.

He wished to be lauded, and thus far, he was nothing more than an errand boy, which did not suit him in the least. His thick black hair blended in with the darkness, which provided him with ample cover as the moon glistened off his long strands. His black eyes narrowed and his yellow teeth shone as he quickly followed the Troublemaker.

Selwyn landed in the midst of a graveyard, which startled him slightly. He hadn't expected Harry Potter to visit the dead while on a reconnaissance mission, but the boy was known for his impulsive behaviours. He squatted behind a headstone, sneering upon seeing Ariana and Kendra Dumbledore's names etched into the stone.

He suspected the Potter boy was paying tribute to his parents, and it truly was the perfect time to strike. He leapt to his feet, and carefully maintained his composure. He couldn't afford to lose the boy now. His glorious future flickered across his mind's eye, and Selwyn bared his jagged yellow teeth in triumph.

"Stupefy!" Selwyn spat the spell, pleased to see the ginger comrade crash into the dilapidated iron fencing.

He hadn't expected Harry Potter's speed. He assumed the boy would fire off his customary Expelliarmus, and Selwyn would simply Stun him. Instead, the Potter bastard dove for his mate, and Disapparated with a crack.

The tall, lithe, Death Eater gave chase, but Harry had learned his lesson. He took Ron to Hogsmeade, as he knew from experience, the magical signatures of Death Eaters would disguise their travel. He didn't stay long, he couldn't risk it, but he also couldn't take the chance of the Death Eater following them to Grimmauld Place.

"Stupid! So fucking stupid!" Harry Potter berated himself, while he rifled through his rucksack for Potions to aid Ron.

"Little Whinging." Ron wheezed as he clutched his cracked ribs, knowing Harry was desperate to alter their current location.

Ron knew he wasn't up for another Side-Along, but he also knew their options were limited. They bloody well couldn't dawdle about in Hogsmeade, unless they wished to be captured. He gritted his teeth, and gave Harry a tight nod, and stifled a groan as the sensation squeezed his innards while they were whisked away.

"What made you think of here?" Harry curiously asked after he had poured a few Potions down Ron's obstinate throat.

"Well, I suppose I thought it would be empty, and it would be loads better than staying in a mouldy tent in the forest again." Ron smiled sleepily, and Harry was astounded.

He had nearly panicked, especially after Ron had been struck by that bloody Stunning Spell. It caused him to recall his last venture to Godric's Hollow with Hermione, and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Rather than reflect upon his errors in judgement, Harry Potter curled into the fetal position and slept in his own room at number 4, Privet Drive, and Ron was quick to follow. While the beds weren't particularly comfortable, and the house held a musty unused sort of odour, Harry believed it was still better than his abandoned cupboard beneath the stairs.

In the morning, they scavenged through the kitchen cupboards and rustled up a poor excuse for a breakfast, but it was better than nothing. They ate in relative silence, while their thoughts mirrored the other. They were completely lost with Hermione.

"I'm in love with your sister," Harry confessed quietly while he sipped the worst cup of tea he'd ever had the displeasure of drinking.

"Harry, any idiot knows that by now. D'ya really think me that stupid? I know exactly what you lot are doing every time I visit the Burrow. You best marry her, or I'll have to chop off your cock." Ron winked, and while the imagery of Ron coming anywhere near his man parts was disconcerting, Harry relaxed. It was the Weasley stamp of approval if there ever was one, and that was good enough for him.

"We've got to go back. We've got to speak to Hermione, which we should have done before we ran off like idiots. She's going to shout at us a bit, but, that's what Hermione does." Harry shook his head at his stubborn stupidity and nearly deadly error.

"Yeah, she shouts and goes to the library." Ron pushed away his thick, slimy bowl of porridge and shuddered.

"Are you up to it?" Harry gestured toward the freckled forearm wrapped tightly around Ron's midsection, but his mate nodded.

"It's not safe out here. I know we've got to stop Him, but we've got to be smart about it. If there is a last horcrux, we need to ask Hermione. She'll have a general idea at least, and well, I trust you Harry, but I'm not fond of being attacked by Death Eaters." Ron dumped his bowl into the sink and hoisted his bag over his shoulder.

When they returned to Grimmauld Place, empty-handed and slightly defeated, their conditions worsened upon learning Hermione Granger was gone.

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix was quite busy these days. They were holding secret meetings, which weren't anything new, but these particular groupings were devoid of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. The Order didn't trust them, not any longer. How could they, really?

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been the first to voice his concerns, but it wasn't as if they were unwarranted. It had been foolish of the so-called Chosen One to vacate Grimmauld Place without the slightest trace of a plan of action. The last thing the Minister for Magic wished was to argue with the boy again. Harry Potter did have quite the temper, but his passion was admirable.

While Arthur Weasley suggested the boys recover at the Burrow from their excursion, Kingsley jumped on the opportunity. It wasn't particularly difficult to hide his excitement. Harry and Ron were distracted by news of Hermione's disappearance.

"They're settled." Arthur Weasley shuffled nervously into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and sat near the head of the well-worn table.

"Is there a proper plan in place?" Kingsley dropped his square blue hat onto the table and fingered the black tassel before he sat across from Arthur.

"Of course there is a proper plan in place. You do realise you're speaking about Hermione Granger? I don't know how that girl manages to get anything done with all her plotting and planning. I'm exhausted from simply listening to her." Narcissa Malfoy offered tea service with a slight frown. "I have this."

A small, leather bound, fraying, brown notebook was set on the corner of the kitchen table. The edges were frayed, the leather was littered with the oily remains of fingerprints, but that wasn't the most important part. In the corner, in tight little golden letters, it said 'Hermione J. Granger'.

"I don't understand." Arthur looked at Narcissa, but she was ignoring his probing gaze.

"You're not meant to understand...yet." She finally spoke between her teeth, and Arthur knew to remain silent if he wished to glean the slightest bit of information.

The air between the witch and wizards was filled with melancholy, more than anything else. Kingsley wasn't particularly looking forward to explaining this messy business to Arthur Weasley, but his hands were tied. Arthur was Hermione's de facto father, and as such he had a right to know the dangers she faced.

Arthur untied the twine wrapped about the book and took a deep breath as he lovingly caressed the sunken gold letters. He didn't want to open it. He didn't want to see Hermione Granger's careful penmanship, with her tiny letters and intricate explanations. He didn't really wish to know what she was doing, what she had done, but they were waiting for him, he realised.

'If you're reading this, I'm already gone, obviously. There are so many things I need to tell you, so many things I should have said, but it's too late to wax poetic now. What's done is done.

'Within these pages, through months upon months of careful research and reconnaissance, you will discover the secrets to defeating Voldemort. It really wasn't that difficult once I received a few bits of pertinent information.

'It's up to you now. You'll be the ones to inform Harry Potter what needs to be done. He'll hate every minute of it. He relies on me too heavily. This isn't my fight. It's my war. It's everyone's war, but in the end, it's Harry. He's the one that will end this, but he can't do it alone. Help him find the last horcrux, otherwise, we're all doomed.'

While Arthur Weasley was reading the immaculate handwriting on small, damaged pages, Hermione Granger was running. She wasn't carefully contemplating her spells and concentrating on striking true. She was weaving between the trees, ducking behind boulders, and falling into the thick underbrush. She was haphazardly tossing jinxes and hexes over her shoulder, unable to keep the heavy hood of her cloak over her head.

Hermione couldn't decide if her disguise was a blessing or a curse. The Death Eaters pursuing her weren't exactly aiming for her death, but she knew if she were captured, the end result would be the same. She didn't have time to Apparate. She couldn't run and centre her thoughts for precision at the same time. She was panicking, and that was a death warrant at this stage of the game.

"Don't kill her! I need a new toy!"

Hermione's blood ran cold. She knew that voice. She knew that cackle. She lost her footing and sprawled into the thick blanket of crunchy dead leaves strewn along the forest floor.

She couldn't even remember where she was any longer, let alone think of a place filled with safety. She was on her own, and she was failing. Hermione Granger detested to fail. She would rather face death than failure, and yet, she was suddenly facing both.

The sight of a formidable dwelling in the distance aided in clearing her head. The brisk air hurt her chest as she sucked in her breaths. Hermione hid, using the leaves to camouflage her position, and she managed to catch her breath for a moment.

"Malfoy Manor. I'm nearly there. I'm going to get caught. If I can just breach the wards, perhaps I've got a chance…"

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots near her position. She must have closed her eyes for a little too long, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. The rough bark of the tree scraped against her cheek, drawing blood as she silently slid against the dry, brittle wood.

Hermione controlled her breathing while mentally reciting excerpts from Hogwarts: A History. She knew if Harry and Ron were travelling with her, they would have mocked her techniques, but she couldn't think about them. They were closing in on her. She had to run.

The small, inept group of Death Eaters quickly lost the trail of their prey, but Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't an ordinary Death Eater. She was exceptional, and also terrifying. She drew joy from striking fear in those that dared to defy her, those that she considered less than herself, and there were many.

Her wild ebony hair nearly stood on end, while her volatile magic crackled in the air. Her ripped, black lace dress dragged on the ground behind her, as she chased the skittish rabbit in the wood. Bellatrix knew her Lord would not be terribly pleased with her actions, but there were moments when she believed it to be better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.

Lord Voldemort didn't understand, nor did he wish to understand her incessant need for playthings. His desire was to rebuild his dynasty, and while he was a dedicated believer in torture and punishments, there was a method to his madness. Bellatrix simply did as she liked, and he disliked her inability to be properly tamed.

She covered her blue lips with both hands and scrunched her nose in delight. Her little rabbit was leaning into an old, decrepit tree, and Bellatrix smiled widely as she saw the streak of blood on the young cheek. If she hadn't been wary of spooking her rabbit, Bellatrix would have cackled into the frigid air.

Instead, she cast a simple Charm, which muffled the sounds of her footsteps in the fallen leaves. She held her breath, even as her long fingers hovered in the air near her prey's shoulder. Bellatrix squeezed the shoulder hard, drawing a strangled scream from her rabbit, even as it struggled.

Bellatrix jabbed her wand into the girl's throat, her dark eyes daring her prisoner to move. She had to give the girl credit, at least she thought it was a girl. Bellatrix wrenched the heavy hood off her head and crinkled her nose in distaste to see her latest acquisition was nearly bald.

"It's not often my prey dares to stare me in the eye. I can respect that my little Muggle."

"I'm not a Muggle." Hermione Granger instantly spat, though she regretted it nearly as quickly.

"Perhaps you are, and perhaps you're not. It doesn't matter, not really. You're mine now, and I wish to play."

Bellatrix slapped the girl, hard on the cheek and smiled. Her prisoner shivered, but she was still gripping her wand, inching it upward, and that would never do. Bellatrix snatched it from the girl's cold, frozen fingers, and tossed it over her shoulder.

There was something incredibly satisfying in hearing the girl's wand bounce off a nearby tree. It pleased her even more to see the subtle slump to the girl's shoulders. Bellatrix felt as though she had won.

"You could let me go." Hermione offered, quite lamely.

"What would be the fun in that? I've got amuse myself somehow, and you look entertaining." Bellatrix adjusted her grip and squeezed the back of her prisoner's neck, until the girl gasped. "I've always wanted a dog. Do you suppose if I put a collar on you, you could bark for me? You haven't got a speck of hair, which is disappointing. The last one was a blonde, and she wasn't inclined to play. She's dead now, but you'll do better won't you?"

Hermione Granger stood tall, despite her current circumstances. The light snow on the ground was seeping into her boots, completely drenching her already frozen toes, but she refused to bend. She still had a job to do, and Hermione Granger did not fail.


	15. 15 - Hermione

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't have a plan of action. I don't have my notes. I don't have my books. I don't have my wand. I don't have anything except whatever I've managed to scurry away in my exceedingly large brain.

That's not true. I have Draco Malfoy as well, but he's as stubborn as an arse. I know he holds the secrets of the Manor. Narcissa told me as much. Lucius, being an ingenious, yet evil sort of bloke, had loved his son and sought to protect him. Even I had to admit that much.

I knew exactly where the Malfoy Book of Spells was kept, not that I could get there or anything, but the knowledge was eating me alive. Draco could fetch the book if he wanted to. Actually, I don't know if he could, but I liked to convince myself otherwise.

I shouldn't have been complaining. I've been tortured a little, but that's to be expected when bloody Bellatrix Lestrange captures you. I'm grateful I'm not dead. I haven't been raped. I haven't been bitten by the likes of Greyback.

I'm fed. I'm clean. I'm a prisoner. It seems no matter what sorts of conversations I hold with myself, I always wind up back at the beginning. I'm a prisoner. Draco Malfoy is a prisoner.

The problem is he doesn't have to be, not that he'll listen to reason or anything. He's exceedingly stubborn, but then again, so am I. It doesn't change anything, the conversation goes round and round, and nothing ever gets resolved.

I don't understand his incessant need to punish himself. It's been six years! Six years of acquiescing to demands, he doesn't have to bend to. Six years of being beaten and abused. Six years of living in squalor when he could blast the door off the hinges if he so chose, but he refuses.

"I don't understand!" I was shouting at him, and I hardly ever shouted at him.

I had shouted at Blaise Zabini, but that had been over a year ago. I couldn't abide the damage that had been inflicted upon Draco, and I was less than cordial. It was completely understandable under the circumstances. It had taken months upon months for Malfoy to properly recover.

"You don't need to understand. You need to accept it." Draco hissed and turned away from me. I hated when he did that, but it was warranted. I was being obstinate.

"I don't want to accept it. I want to do what I was sent here to do." I crossed my arms in an absolute fit, but he stared unseeing at the wall.

"Hmm yes, the great rescue. How do you plan on achieving that without a wand, while locked in the dungeon, with a madman overhead?" I could hear the facetious tones of his words and clenched my teeth.

"I can't do anything, and you damn well know it. You keep telling me you're going to get me out of here, and I keep telling you I'm not bloody leaving without you. We could leave together. You don't have to do this anymore, Malfoy." I wasn't against begging.

I wasn't against anything. I didn't want to be here anymore. Nothing had changed. It was a bloody standstill, at least from where I stood, and I had had enough. I was tired of being afraid of the footsteps that stomped down the stairs. I was tired of holding my breath every time I heard a voice that wasn't Draco's. I was tired of wondering if Harry and Ron were alive or dead. I wanted answers. I needed answers. I needed to get the hell out of here, but Draco Malfoy wouldn't hear of it.

"Remember when you first arrived and it took you forever and a day to speak more than a handful of words to me?" I could hear the simmering rage in his words, and I stiffened.

"Yes." I spat the word, just as angry as he.

"Let's go back to that, alright? I do miss the fucking silence."

I didn't have anything to say to that. Draco's words hurt me, probably more than they should. I didn't want to go back to the silences. I didn't want to go back to him flinching away from me when I accidentally brushed against him.

In the darkest of hours, he was the light. He made me feel safe in a precariously unsafe situation. He protected me from the lascivious appetites of Death Eaters. He held me in the dark. He kissed me like he meant it.

Of course, now he was sitting in the corner, facing the wall, and pretending I didn't exist. I could hear his breaths coming forth in strangled puffs. I had really upset him, and I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know how to fix anything, and I bloody well hated it. I'm not used to not having the answers, and I very well might have stated it before. It's still true. It will always be true.

I couldn't take back my words. I couldn't apologise and mean it either. I wanted him to forgive himself. I wanted him to want to be free. I wanted to be free.

It was difficult, but I forced my feet forward. I knew Draco could hear me. He was impeccable when it came to knowing exactly where I was at all times. He hadn't moved an inch, but that was all right. His fingers were tracing the slashes in the stone, but I didn't ask him how many slashes were there. I didn't want to know. I wasn't ready, and that's when the truth struck me.

Draco Malfoy wasn't ready to be free. He wasn't ready to face the outside world. It was safe here, or rather as safe as it could be. He didn't have to interact with anyone if he didn't wish to do so, and perhaps that was the draw. He was afraid, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, so was I.

I held my breath and placed my hands on his shoulders. I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold him tight until the world stopped spinning, but I didn't. Instead, I pressed my chest into his back and placed small kisses between his shoulder blades, until Draco finally relaxed against me.

"I fix things. It's what I do. It's what I've always done. I don't know how to be any different." I sighed against his soft, scarred skin, and he twisted suddenly and yanked me into his lap.

"I don't want you to be any different." Draco held me tight and hissed into my ear. "I simply want you to accept reality. I can't have you wasting away to nothing in the Manor dungeons due to your own stubbornness, especially not when I can change it. I don't want to argue with you, Granger. One day you're going to learn a very important lesson, and it's going to hurt like hell." Draco kissed my cheek, and I could feel the weariness coming off him in waves.

"What lesson?" I couldn't resist asking him, even though I was feeling the effects of our emotional exchange as well.

"Hermione Granger can't fix everything."

* * *

The days were passing so quickly, I had no sense of time. Blaise Zabini wasn't particularly helpful in that regard, and I had a sneaking suspicion Draco had something to do with the lack of information Blaise offered. I hadn't given up my endeavours. I only wish I had a bit of parchment and a quill.

I could accomplish quite a lot with the written word. It helped me formulate my thoughts, but it really wasn't an option as a prisoner. There were moments when my thoughts drifted toward Harry and Ron, but it terrified me to think of them. I wasn't a particularly courageous Gryffindor anymore, but who could blame me really?

Despite Draco's unwillingness to discuss his departure, I had learned more than I thought possible. I knew the other cells were sealed. I knew we were housed in the last remaining cell and it was nearest the bottom of the stairwell.

There was a door at the end of the corridor, but no one ever used it. I had overheard Blaise and Draco whispering about the Malfoy Tunnels, and I deduced one of the entrances was here in the dungeon. It was logical to assume.

I knew from the tutelage of Narcissa Malfoy, it would be impossible for me to venture into the Tunnels. They were forged with centuries-old magic and bound to Malfoys. I hadn't missed a knowing sort of sparkle in her eye when we discussed them, but I didn't understand it then.

I understood too much now. I was in trouble. I had a terrible, awful secret, and it would ruin everything. I was a bargaining chip now. I was a target, more so than I was before, which I didn't even think was possible.

My identity was still a well-kept secret, and I couldn't have been more grateful to Blaise for keeping it that way. He could have easily informed the other Death Eaters, or Great Godric, even Voldemort, but he didn't. Blaise was loyal to Draco, the way I was loyal to Harry. I appreciated that about him, but it was also really damn infuriating.

"You're not fooling anyone, Granger." Blaise sat on the damp bottom step and whispered to me, while Draco slept.

"I'm not trying to fool anyone. I'm trying to formulate a plan that facilitates escape. You can't blame me for that." I was careful to keep my voice low, but I was positive he could feel my anger.

"Bellatrix wants to have a chat with you. She drank entirely too much firewhiskey and decided I would be the perfect wizard to have a chat with her. She regaled me with stories of her nonexistent sex life with the Great Dark Bastard." Blaise visibly shuddered, and I didn't blame him.

"That's disgusting." I wasn't feeling particularly well in the first place, and that sort of imagery just made things worse.

"Oi, you're hearing the tame version, second hand. I might have…made the mistake of telling her that she should speak with another woman about such things."

"Oh, dear gods." I was gagging into my hand by that point, but Blaise ignored me.

"Bellatrix was quick to point out she didn't have that option, considering Narcissa defected and the remaining Death Eaters are men, buuuut, then she remembered you. You might want to tie something around those curls and toss some dirt on your face and not be a swot in general." Blaise smiled at me, but his obsidian eyes were empty.

"How much time do I have?" My stomach was rolling with apprehension, and I couldn't calm the waves of nausea.

"Zabini!" Bellatrix Lestrange snarling voice hurtled down the stairs, and I knew my time was up.

I raced for the loo and splashed tepid water on my face. It didn't help. Instead, I dry-heaved into the tiny basin until my stomach ached with the emptiness.

I listened to Blaise Zabini's footfalls as he ascended, and took his advice. I extinguished the low burning candle and quickly tied one of Draco's discarded shirts around my growing hair. I wiped my hands down the slimy stonewalls and rubbed the slickness against my face.

"Puppy? Are you here darling? Mummy wishes to play."

Bellatrix Lestrange's infernal need to refer to me as 'Puppy' was reminiscent of a slipshod Muggle sitcom. I was thankful she couldn't enter the cell, but it didn't stop her from ordering me about. There were times when Bellatrix cast hexes and jinxes through the bars, but Malfoy was always there. He was always protecting me, and it was downright infuriating…not that I could do anything about it.

"I'm here."

There was no use in hiding from her. Bellatrix would simply shout and cast spells. She would also wake Malfoy, and I'd rather she didn't. I wanted him to rest as much as possible. He was having horrific bouts of night terrors, and he looked bloody awful. I suspected the strain of his self-induced punishments was wearing him down, but he scoffed at me, not that I was surprised.

"There's my Puppy. Come closer." Bellatrix was crooning at me.

I didn't know what to make of it, other than do as she asked. I snatched a thin blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around me. It was difficult, but I forced my feet forward until I was finally face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I'm going to sit. I don't feel particularly well." I leant against the icy cold stone and slid to the floor, with her dark eyes watching my every move.

"Puppy, you're a woman, and if there's any woman that is going to tell me the truth, it's going to be my Puppy. Isn't that right?" Bellatrix sat awkwardly on the bottom step and propped her elbow on her knee. She batted her eyes at me, but from the looks of it, she wasn't nearly as psychotic as I remembered.

"I'll try." I didn't want to try. I wanted to crawl back into the safety of the warm bed until I felt better.

"I know you're fucking my nephew, Puppy." Bellatrix sighed quite dramatically might I add, and I knew she could see the fear in my eyes. "I don't care, but I have to admit I'm insanely jealous."

"You…want to…have sex…with your nephew?" I frowned, and Bellatrix covered her mouth with both hands and giggled. She bloody giggled. I'd died and gone straight to hell.

"Don't be vulgar, Puppy. My Dark Lord used to spend his nights plundering my village, but everything has changed." Bellatrix pouted, and if she hadn't been absolutely certifiable, she might have been pretty.

"I'm…sorry?" I don't know what she expected of me, but I knew being flippant would just cause pain.

"So am I! It's ridiculous! He's always floating about and complaining. It's not my fault he can wander through walls. It's not my fault he did whatever he did that caused his current state. It's not my fault we lost Hogwarts to the fucking Order…again! None of this is my fault, but he's blaming me. I swear he's blaming me." Bellatrix tapped her wand against the wall, and I nearly felt sorry for her.

"Are you certain he's blaming you? Perhaps…he's just as angry as you are about the situation? I've found that people, in general, lash out in anger when a situation isn't to their liking and completely out of their control." I never would have imagined any scenario that would cause me to freely offer advice to Bellatrix Lestrange. Perhaps I was hallucinating in my illness.

"He won't fuck me, Puppy. He's rejecting me at every turn. I mean sure, there are times when he manages to occupy a dim-witted Death Eater, but it's not nearly as satisfying. It's his words, but it's not his cock. I want his cock, Puppy. I miss it desperately. Zabini said you would be helpful and make me feel better. I feel worse." Bellatrix stood abruptly, and I knew if I didn't say something comforting she was going to bring me to my knees.

"Is there something you could do to aid him? He's obviously furious due to his current predicament, but isn't there something you could do to help him be the way he once was?" I cringed and braced myself for a shout and a hex that didn't come.

"Hmm, you might have a point, my pretty Puppy. He says he can't retrieve Nagini from Little Hangleton, but that doesn't mean I can't do it. If I brought her here, he could revitalise himself and then he would definitely reward me with his delicious, fat cock. Puppy, you're a genius!" Bellatrix Lestrange, complete nutter, Death Eater, blew me a kiss and raced up the staircase.

I wretched into my lap. I don't know how long I sat there, unable to move. I could feel the slick bile coating my thighs through the thin blanket, but I remained still. I was freezing cold, and I wanted to rise. I wanted to wash off the muck, put on clean clothes, and huddle beneath the covers with Malfoy, but I could barely blink without pain.

"Granger?"

I don't know how much time had passed between the visit from Bellatrix, and Malfoy waking from his deep slumber. I shivered violently, and I could hear my teeth clang together, but I couldn't answer him. I barely managed to tap my ragged fingernails against the wrought iron bars and hope he heard the muted clang.

When I woke, I was warm. I couldn't remember the last time I was truly warm. I knew Malfoy wasn't braced against me. I could feel the weight of heavy quilts that weren't here before.

"I'm scared," Malfoy whispered, and I wanted to go to him, but I couldn't move more than my eyelids.

"It's about fucking time." Blaise Zabini. His voice I knew, and he sounded worse for wear.

"I'm not scared for me, you dolt. She's quite ill. If she dies here, I'll never forgive myself." Malfoy was pacing, and if I could have smiled, I would have.

"She'd forgive you in the afterlife. She loves you, Malfoy. She's got a bigger heart than most Hufflepuffs." Zabini sounded tired, and I understood. It had to be exhausting to put forth a façade in order to survive.

"I need you to owl Potter. For the love of…Blaise, don't argue. I was eavesdropping when Granger was conversing with my delightfully mad Aunt Bella." Malfoy paused near my bedside and I felt his fingers smoothing my hair.

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?" Blaise snarled, but even I knew he didn't quite mean it. There was something missing, and for the first time in an endless number of months, I felt hope flutter in my chest.

"You stumbled down here drunk one night and told me all about some bit of parchment Potter shoved at you. Of course, you never told me what it said, but I assume you've still got it. You could communicate with me. If you want this blasted War to fucking end, Zabini, you'll do what I ask."

Draco sank down beside me, and he threaded his fingers through mine. He wasn't usually this affectionate, I suppose he truly was scared. I managed to apply pressure to his fingers, and I heard his sigh of relief.

"There's a coin," I rasped, "in the overcoat I was wearing when I was captured. The interior pocket on the left." I tried to sit up, but my head was spinning something awful, not to mention the fact, Malfoy had a firm hold on my shoulders.

He pressed a glass against my lips, and I wanted to drink greedily, but Draco wouldn't allow it. He removed the glass the moment I took a small sip. My stomach wasn't particularly happy with the water, but it didn't reject it, for which I was thankful.

"What the fuck do I want with a coin?" I swear Zabini was being obtuse on purpose.

"Communication." I managed to sputter, and suddenly I was gagging on the bile forcing its way into my mouth.

Malfoy forced me to sit and even manage to lay a small chamber pot of sorts in my lap. My stomach didn't reject the water, but it was highly considering it. Everything hurt, and I just wanted to sleep. Why couldn't Blaise be smarter?

"What should it say?"

Blaise Zabini finally, finally, finally sighed in defeat. It took him long enough. I swear, he's quite stubborn, but he's no match for Draco and I. I probably would have preened with delight over such a victory, but I wasn't an insufferable know-it-all any longer, at least, I hoped I wasn't.

"Bellatrix. Little Hangleton. Snake."

I felt my eyes closing, and I really hoped Zabini did as he was bid. Harry Potter was our only chance, and gods I hated putting my faith in anyone, but there wasn't a choice in the matter. As much as I scoffed at destiny and fate, defeating Voldemort was what Harry was chosen to do.

"Potter better not fuck this up." Draco snarled, quite angrily, and it took every ounce of willpower to keep from telling him…my sentiments exactly.


	16. 16 - Harry

I was struggling, really struggling, and there wasn't anyone to tell of it. I refused to burden them. We were all under a heavy burden. It was up to me to lessen the load, not add to it. However, I was certain was one very certain little fact.

I was really sick and tired of the number of people shagging in my fucking house. Didn't they realise we were in the midst of a war? There wasn't time to be sneaking off to stuffy third-floor libraries, or the study, or bedrooms that weren't theirs. We had work to do, and strangely, it was me doing the work.

I was never the studious sort, and I had absolutely no intention of starting now, but those choices were stripped from me when Hermione fucked off. I was doing her job. I was stuck in the stuffy, mildew ridden library on the third floor of Grimmauld Place. It was absolutely subpar, and the selection of usable research materials was absolutely dismal.

The conditions that I was forced to work under were shocking at best. Loads of books had missing pages, if you can imagine. Who would do that? Why, why would anyone tear pages from a book, in the middle of the page no less. I'm never going to know the Potion ingredients for long-lasting invisibility at this point.

Oh, my gods, I'm Hermione. How the fuck did this happen? I-I don't want to be Hermione! I don't want to spend my evenings poring over parchment until my eyes cross. Gods, is this how she felt all the time? No wonder she was so resentful.

"Harry? Are you up here again? Come on mate, let it go." Ron wasn't being particularly helpful, but that wasn't anything new.

"Someone's got to do it, Ronald. We don't all have the luxury of filling our stomachs with whatever vittles are littering the table. Some of us have a responsibility to get us out of this mess." I crossed my arms and glowered at him, just the way Hermione would have done and it scared me a fair bit. Perhaps I was taking things a little too far, but I couldn't help it.

"Godric, you even sound like her. I don't like that a bit." Ron shivered in an exaggerated manner, and I had half a mind to direct his attention to the spider that lingered in the corner near his elbow, but I refrained.

"There's no need to be insulting, Ron." I stood up then and slammed my book closed.

He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either. Ron didn't understand that I had to channel my inner Hermione. I didn't have a choice. I couldn't make sense of her cramped handwriting. Hermione Granger wrote in such a manner that only she could truly understand it. She used a shorthand of sorts and referred to things only she would understand.

"You're being such a woman," Ron grumbled, but it didn't stop him from shoving an old scone into his mouth. I'd never really noticed how absolutely revolting his eating habits were before now.

"There's a spider on the wall…just there." I pointed at his elbow and immediately vacated the library.

I could hear his screams echoing through the narrow corridors, and there was something about it that made me feel lighter than air. I smiled to myself and even managed to hum a little tune while I jaunted down the staircase. I didn't even mind when that wretched Walburga Black shouted at me. Of course, my high spirits didn't last long, the Minister for Magic and Narcissa Malfoy ruined all that.

"Finally. We've been waiting for ages!" Kingsley Shacklebolt looked a bit worn around the edges, but we all did.

"Sorry." I wasn't the least bit sorry, and I'm fairly certain that was obvious. "I got caught up in some research." I shrugged and dragged a chair out from the table and plunked down in it.

"You're second-guessing the owl." Narcissa laid a plate of biscuits and delectable hot chocolate before me, and I nearly moaned.

You don't understand. Narcissa Malfoy has managed to coax the Black Family Recipe for Hot Chocolate from Kreacher. He's taken to her and doesn't even grumble when she asks him for aid. I should have expected as much, Kreacher always was ridiculously loyal to the Blacks, but even so, I was slightly miffed. I had worked hard to cultivate my relationship with the surly house elf, and the moment Narcissa arrived, I was barely more than a nuisance.

"I'm second guessing everything." It was difficult to admit such things, but I did it for the sake of the greater good. Everything I did was for the greater good, at least I thought it was, but there were times when I completely fucked up.

"It would be foolish to ignore it." Narcissa slowly poured me a mug of hot chocolate, and I was grateful but wary.

"She's been gone for more than a little while now. How is it that the coin was just now used? How is it that Zabini is offering us bits of information? Why now?" I slapped my hand onto the table, but instead, I crushed a biscuit.

"He's growing restless." Shacklebolt shrugged in that maddeningly bored manner he had going for him lately.

He knew something, the Minister I mean. He knew something important, and he wasn't sharing with me. I couldn't stop myself from glaring at Narcissa, but she looked just as surprised as I felt. At least I wasn't completely clueless alone. It was nice to have company, as strange as that sounds.

"How would you know?" I was being snarky, but I was long past pretending to like being treated as though I was still a child. "The Death Eaters haven't done fuckall lately. They've been nearly impossible to suss out. They lost Hogwarts, again, and I'll be damned if I allow them to take the first place I ever called home. Voldemort hasn't even fucking been seen since the First Battle of Hogwarts. How can we even be certain he still exists?!" I was shouting. I was being irrational. I didn't care.

I carefully watched Kingsley shift in his seat. I was moments away from stomping back up the stairs like a petulant child when he pulled a small roll of parchment from the inner pocket of his robes. Carefully wrapped within the roll was a bit of cloth. I watched Kingsley's large dark hands withdraw a clear phial filled with a cloudy substance, and I knew exactly what it contained.

"I received this three days ago. I had to verify the authenticity before presenting it to you, Harry. The Wizengamot was being difficult, as I'm sure you can understand. Until this particular memory was presented, they were absolutely determined to pretend the War was imaginary, and we were simply giving Death Eaters more credit than they deserved. There's a Pensive in the study for your use." The grim set of Kingsley's lips set me on edge, but I remained silent.

I opened my hand and Kingsley laid the phial across my palm, and I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't know whose memory I held in my hand. I didn't know what I was going to see. For the first time in my life, I thought, perhaps ignorance was best.

I can't recall if I minded my manners and bid the Minister adieu. I most definitely didn't hear Narcissa's clipped footsteps dutifully following me to the study. I was quite aware of Ron's bumbling footsteps on the stairs, and I paused.

"Harry?" Ron was a rumpled mess, but he often was since Molly's passing.

"Mr Weasley, you march yourself straight up those stairs. I am absolutely positive I demanded that ratty sweater yesterday, as you refused to yield to Kreacher. You will bathe. You will dress in clean, pressed clothes. You will stop filling the emptiness of your heart with food, otherwise, your hideous trousers will burst at the seams. Enough is enough." Narcissa Malfoy took it upon herself to mother Ron in a way Molly never had, and it was riveting.

"I-I don't have too. You're not my mum!" Ron's cheeks reddened, and he stood his ground, which mildly impressed me.

"You could always take a peek at the books in my room if you'd rather." It was so easy to bait him, and Ron never disappointed.

"Books? What do you mean books? I have to…you want me to…read now? Might as well tell me to go to the library!" Ron's cheeks puffed, and his temper was flaring towards another one of his ridiculous explosions.

"Actually, Mr Weasley, that's not a bad idea." Kingsley's booming voice was deep and thick with authority. Even Ron knew better than to argue with the Minister.

"Fantastic!" Even the portraits were silent as Ron clambered up the stairs in a great show of his disagreeance.

* * *

 _"Do you love me?" Hermione Granger stood in the midst of a dark, dank, dungeon cell wearing nothing more than a tatty button up shirt._

 _Draco Malfoy struggled, that much was obvious. If Hermione had looked into his pensive grey eyes, the answer would have been clear. Instead, she focused on placing her palms on his chest and stared at her jagged fingernails._

 _It was difficult to see them, but the shadow near the bottom of the stairs wanted to capture the memory just so. He wanted the Order of the Phoenix to see the bond between Hermione and Draco. He wanted them to properly understand their relationship. He knew it was only a matter of time before Harry Potter formulated a rescue, and to take one without the other would destroy them both._

 _He eased up the stone steps and held his breath. There was no need to show the Order the amorous kisses that would lead, as they always did, to lovemaking. He wasn't a voyeur, and he did not wish to convey such._

 _He eased open the heavy oak door at the top of the steps and willed it to remain silent. His shiny black shoes clipped across the marble floors of Malfoy Manor, and he made sure to canvass the area with wide eyes. He took in the scattered groups of Death Eaters in the foyer, the conservatory, and the drawing room. He made sure to pause on each wizard that they might be identified by the Order._

 _He took a deep breath and twisted the door handle and stepped into the designated bedchamber of Lord Voldemort. Ordinarily, he would not be so forward, but he had been summoned. One did not refuse the commands of the Dark Lord and expect to live._

 _"Ah, Mr Nott." Tom Riddle hummed with delight, and Theo managed to maintain his composure. "I see you have recovered from your…unfortunate punishment. It's good to have you back. We'll require your expertise for our next…venture."_

 _"Yes my Lord." Theo bowed before the wisp of a man with bile lodged in his throat._

 _"Bellatrix is currently quite sullen due to your earned freedoms. Do not displease me again, or I shall allow her carte blanche." Voldemort waved his wand bearing hand and ultimately dismissed the trembling Theo Nott._

 _Rather than end the memory there, Theo traversed the Manor and returned to the dungeon. From his vantage point, it seemed Granger was sleeping in Malfoy's lap, which afforded him an opportunity. He hadn't spoken with his former house member with a clear head in years. It was time._

 _"Malfoy." Theo's voice rasped in the darkness, and Draco was startled._

 _"Nott?" Draco attempted to slide out from beneath his slumbering cellmate, but Hermione dug her fingers into his thighs until he stilled. "I've only just managed to get her asleep. If you've come to rile us up, I'd rather you didn't."_

 _"No, it's fine. I'm…me again, and I haven't…quite gotten…used to speaking for myself." Theo stepped toward the cell, yet he knew better than to touch the iron bars._

 _"It really is you. I can't believe it." Draco's hand fell to Hermione's short hair and he gently stroked through the short curls._

 _"He's aiming an ambush. It would be the perfect time to get her out, to get you both out." The sharp chin jutted toward Hermione, but Draco stiffened._

 _"I'm not going anywhere, don't you understand that by now, Nott? I'm going to die here. It didn't bother me before…before…."_

 _"Before her." Theo offered. "You don't have to. You don't have to martyr yourself. I know how the Manor works. I know how the Dark Lord works. He'll use me and have me Imperioused again, and probably dispose of me. I'm expendable. She's not. You're not. You're the only thing keeping him at bay. The Order, and everyone else for that matter, thinks it's Potter. I understand it. He's the Golden Boy, the Chosen One and all that, but Potter didn't reduce old Voldy to his current state. That was some powerful magicks, and yeah it was the gift of your father, but you could end this. You could, Malfoy, but not from that fucking cell." Theo bent at the waist, and his palms slapped his thighs as he struggled to remain upright._

 _"I'm not going to fucking leave her here alone. What do you expect me to do? You want me to just walk out of this cell and what? I haven't my wand. I could…stare at him really hard until he sets a Death Eater on me." Draco scoffed and tucked the coverlet around Hermione's shoulders._

 _"You love her." Theo breathed and sat upon the cold ground. "Find Nagini and this could end."_

 _"I bloody well know that, Nott." Draco Malfoy refused to lift his head, instead, he stared down at the sleeping witch._

 _"I wasn't speaking to you." Theo shook his head and waved off Draco's frustrations. "You didn't deny it."_

 _"Of course I didn't deny it. I'm through lying to myself, but I'm not fucking telling her either. You best keep your mouth shut. I could free her, but she won't fucking go, stubborn witch." Draco thumped his skull on the headboard and covered his unseeing eyes._

 _"Are you still blind? It's really difficult to tell these days." Theo carefully studied what he could discern within the cell to provide a clear picture._

 _"Is Voldemort still alive? Does the sun still rise? Why are you barraging me with stupid questions?" His voice rose and Hermione Granger sat up with a quickness._

 _"Malfoy? What are you…is that…Theo?" Hermione squinted and sought to creep closer, but Draco encased her in his arms and kept her imprisoned against his chest._

 _"He was just leaving." Draco hissed angrily and Theo huffed but climbed to his knees._

 _"Granger, if you care about him…"_

 _"I love him." Hermione Granger's brown eyes were hard and suspicious, but she spoke truth. "Malfoy, maybe he could…"_

 _"No. Malfoy's right. I should be leaving. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him. There's no sense wasting away in here." Theo stood slowly on wobbly limbs and nodded curtly. "It was…nice to see you again, Malfoy. As myself I mean. I wish…we had made different choices, but…it's too late now, isn't it? I don't expect I'll see you again. Good luck." Theo closed his eyes and the memory ended._

* * *

I wanted to pretend I'd never seen it. I wanted to continue to think badly of a boy I once knew who had made terrible choices. I wanted to vomit, but I did none of those things.

"Cissa…" I knew she was there, waiting in the wings, and I couldn't keep this from her. She loved her son. She loved Hermione, and I couldn't be cruel.

It was difficult for me to step aside, but I managed. It was harder even to sit still and remain silent while Narcissa traversed the memory, but I managed. It was damn near impossible to keep my distance when she emerged with tears streaming down her pale cheeks. I failed, but neither of us minded much.

"He's alive. He's alive." She muttered the words so many times they were muddled together, but it didn't matter.

"Hermione's alright," I muttered, but I didn't recognise my voice. I held her tight and drew strength from her weakness.

We sunk to the floor with our arms wrapped tight around each other. We mumbled into each other's shoulders until words no longer had any meaning, but we understood. It was sadness. It was hope. It was a relief, all wrapped together into this jumbled ball and contrived web.

"Theodore Nott provided you with information, Mr Potter." Narcissa wiped the tears from her eyes and resumed her aristocratic glare.

"I know, I just, I need a bit of time to process everything. It really is extraordinary, and I'm not talking about the fact Hermione Granger fashions herself in love with Draco Malfoy. I'm not ready to think about that at all. Gods, I can't tell Ron." I felt my cheeks flush in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

I knew that Ron should be the least of my concerns, but I couldn't help it. I never could, and perhaps that was the problem all along. I needed to stop putting my friendships first and get my head into the game, properly. I loved my friends. I loved my family, yet this was bigger than all of us. This was the continued survival of the Wizarding World.

Perhaps Malfoy could end this. Strangely, it was a welcome relief that there was a possibility that someone else could step toe to toe with Voldemort and win. It didn't have to be me. I quite liked that idea, not because I was a coward or anything. I was just…so fucking tired.

I didn't ask for this. I never asked for this. I didn't ask for the hand I was dealt anymore than Draco Malfoy did dammit. I knew as well as anyone else, if it hadn't been me, it probably would have been Neville. Voldemort decided who would face him in the end, bastard that he is. We had to end him…together.


	17. 17 - Draco

She's angry with me. She lies and says she isn't, but I know better. I know her. I've always known her, in my own way. Now that we were living in such close quarters, it was only a matter of time before I grew to know her better than myself.

"How long have I been here?" Her voice was terse, but it was better than the silence I'd suffered for the past three days.

"Would you like it in days, weeks, or months?" I was playing with fire, but I wanted to elongate our conversation. I wanted to have a conversation, rather than singular syllables and grunts.

"Whichever." She was facing the wall, and I knew she was attempting to count my slashes, but she had no way of knowing which signified her, but I knew.

"Four hundred and twenty-five days." I came up behind her and placed my hands on her shoulders. I didn't press into her. I didn't kiss her cheek, I was just grateful she was accepting such things instead of shoving me away.

"Do you…do you think they miss me?" Granger sniffled. I hadn't heard her cry since the night of Greyback's last abuse.

"They'd be fools not to." She leant back, and the top of her head brushed my chin.

"What if they're dead? They could be dead by now."

I spun her round then and enveloped her in my arms. She clung to me, and she'd never clung to me. She was passionate and sexy as hell, but I always felt as though she was holding back, not that I blamed her for it. It was difficult to pretend we were anything more than prisoners, and I held back plenty as well. It was a slippery slope, a balance if you will, and it was excruciating to maintain.

"If Harry Potter were dead, there would be a constant celebration upstairs. Instead, there's been nothing but angry marching boots and barely concealed contempt. Trust me, they're alive."

"I-I was supposed to rescue you, and here you are comforting me in a moment of weakness." She chuckled lightly, without mirth, and it was easy to spin circles on her back.

"I'm sorry you're here, but I'm not." I didn't need to explain myself further, she understood me.

"Do you love me?" She'd never asked me that before.

She'd never even hinted it was something she needed to hear. She'd told me she loved me, and I hadn't said anything. What the fuck do I know about love? I knew she made my life worth living, and that was a pretty strong emotion.

"I'm not going to tell you. If I tell you I love you, you'll think that gives you license to attempt to rescue me from this hell of my own making. If I tell you I don't, you'll only think poorly of yourself, and be angry you wasted such intense feelings on me. There isn't a winning scenario."

I honestly didn't know the answer, but even if I were certain, I wouldn't tell her. I knew I felt strongly about her, it's impossible not to feel something when surrounded with so much fire. She is everything I'm not, everything I'll never be, and I was drawn to it. I couldn't resist it, nor did I want too, but love? Labelling it would make it real to her, and I couldn't allow it to be real. If it were real, it had the ability to destroy us both, and I couldn't have that, therefore I continued to lie to myself, and to her.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting you to leave with me. Do you think I haven't heard you whispering with Blaise? I know you're plotting something. I know you're planning on staying behind, Malfoy. I don't…I can't…why can't you just…" She was trembling in my arms, and I hated witnessing her weakness. I felt as though it was my fault. It was, in a roundabout sort of way, but her stubbornness didn't help in the slightest.

"Shhh." She wasn't making sense any longer, but that didn't stop her from speaking.

It was easy to manoeuvre my way through our cell and set her on the bed. Her hair just brushed her chin and wasn't nearly as curled and frizzy as I remembered. It was soft, despite our conditions. I wished I had really known her before all this.

I shouldn't have been such a spiteful child. I shouldn't have just accepted my father's word as gospel. I should have formed my own opinions and made my own choices. It was too late now. I was as good as dead, I wasn't taking her with me.

"I know what you're doing. Y-you're working with Zabini. I know you are, Malfoy. You just let me talk and talk and you never confirm or deny anything. What do I have to do in order for you to leave with me?" She was practically in my lap, not that I was complaining, but the desperation in her cracked voice was heartbreaking.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to lie, but I couldn't tell her the truth. She was absolutely right in her assumptions, which was the problem. Hermione Granger is a brilliant witch even under extenuating, stress-filled conditions. I'll never understand how Harry Potter managed.

It was easy to distract her. She was desperate, and while I couldn't give her the words she wanted, I could give her the affection she craved. There were moments when I couldn't help but wonder if she knew how needy she really was. She was always touching me and seemed to seek solace even in something as minimal as a stroke of the hand. I had always scoffed at the constant hugging between the Gryffindors, but in retrospect, I realised, it was only her.

It was much better between us now, not that I had complaints before, mind you. It was relatively easy to be a bloke when it came to sexual relations. Regardless of my performance, I was pretty fucking satisfied. Granger didn't complain, she never had where our physical relationship was concerned, and I appreciated that. However, there was much less fumbling and apologies, which I'm sure she appreciated.

She was being difficult lately, which was agitating. I knew she hadn't her monthly, therefore her avoidance was driving me absolutely mad. Things had been stilted between us since she fell ill, but I needed to rectify the situation. I needed her.

I despised admitting such things, but it was true. I needed her. It was the sort of weakness my father would have mocked heavily if he were alive. He probably would have beaten me senseless, but I wasn't afraid of him anymore. He wasn't here, and I was.

I wanted to forget, just for a little while. I wanted to feel Granger's smooth skin beneath my fingertips. I wanted to blot out our surroundings and pretend we were anywhere else. I wanted to pretend we were free.

"Granger, I'm protecting you. The more you know, the more danger you're in, and I know you can take care of yourself, but I won't chance it. I won't chance the possibility of some fucking Death Eater Compelling you to leave our cell. I won't chance them utilising you for spell practice as they attempt to pry secrets from your lips." She wanted to argue with me. I could feel the tension in her limbs as I smoothed my palms down her bare arms.

"I can handle it." Her voice was nearly a whisper, and I secretly applauded her bravado. She was an absolute Gryffindor through and through.

"I don't want you to handle it. I don't want them Compelling you. I don't want them looking at you. I don't want them touching you. I don't want them lusting after you. You're mine, and I shan't let them take that away when they've taken everything else." I hissed in her ear and pressed her against my chest with such longing I barely recognised myself.

"I'm yours?" Hermione Granger had a condescending sort of manner about her, but I didn't care.

I couldn't stop myself from recalling the hurried conversation I'd had with Theo Nott. He didn't last long. I mean…he didn't manage to keep himself free for long, but his words still rang true. It was easy to admit it to Theo, even if I had trouble admitting to such things myself. He'd never tell anyone. He would never be truly free, and that's what gave me the courage.

Strange isn't it? I think it is. I freely admit it's utterly and completely mad to admit to someone I'll probably never see again that I just so happen to love Hermione Granger. I knew Theo was collecting information, and it made me wary, but I couldn't help it. The confession didn't count, because Theo would never truly be Theo again, at least that's how I rationalised it.

I liked to hope he had managed to contact the Order during his few hours of lucidity. The Death Eaters hadn't come marching into the dungeon and forcing me to relinquish her. They hadn't bothered me much at all lately, which is the only indication I had that Theo kept his rabbity mouth closed.

"You're mine, I'm yours, and this is all we'll have." She was naked beneath me now, but I still needed to explain, I needed her to understand.

She made this horrid little noise, but it hurt. She was trying so fucking hard to keep her perfect little façade in place, and she faltered. I pretended I hadn't heard the sound of her heart breaking, and I touched her.

I held her hand and studied the way our fingers fit together. I couldn't see them properly, but I could feel the smooth ridges and lines. Her hand was small, but it really fit impeccably in mine. I liked the way it felt, and I would miss it when she…

"It doesn't have to be." She huffed, but it was half-hearted at best. I had become quite adept at distracting her.

"I considered it. You should know that much." I half laid on top of her and memorised the feel of her skin. "I am capable, you're not wrong." I lightly stroked her left breast and listened to the way her breath caught in her throat. "At one time, I really thought Potter could end everything. I still think he can, to a certain extent, but you see, Granger, if I vacate the Manor…he can as well." There wasn't a need to expound on the he, she knew.

"You're the reason he's trapped here." She was desperate for more information, I could hear it in the excitement of her voice, but I didn't want to speak anymore. I only wished to feel.

It was languid motions, and her skin tightened beneath the genteel touch. I was quite fond of the indentation just beneath the bottom of her ribs. I disliked the lack of flesh clinging to her bones, and I would have rectified it if I could have. I listened to her sigh with impatience, but she didn't understand.

It was strange to say such things about the brightest witch of the age, but it was true. She couldn't comprehend what I was doing, and I didn't expect her to. This was for me, and while she'd appreciate the efforts, I needed this.

Her thinking was so fucking loud, I swore I could hear words. Her distraction afforded me the opportunity to knead her thighs and tickle behind her knees. She flinched when I was a bit too amorous as I squeezed her breasts together, and I paused.

"Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?" I managed to pull her from whatever elaborate plan she was currently hatching, and she kissed me.

She was being aggressive, which wasn't her nature, and while it was titillating, it wasn't what I needed. I pulled back and pecked her lips gently. It was second nature to nibble her earlobe and slide between her welcoming thighs.

I liked to hear the little sounds lodged in her throat. I liked the breathy little gasps when I touched her nearly anywhere. I liked the way she arched into me and dug her fingernails into my back. She didn't care that I was littered with scars, and I liked that as well.

I moved slowly, and her frustration with me grew, but I only smiled against her throat. Her legs locked around my hips, and she met my lazy thrusts with an urgency I appreciated. There was something about her that was completely intoxicating. She had this magical hold on me, that completed me in a way I hadn't known was possible. I hated her for it, as much as I didn't.

"More," Granger begged, and fuck it was sexy. I couldn't refuse her, and I didn't want too. I wanted to give her everything she wished, fuck I wanted to give her the world, but all I could give her was freedom.

I tasted her soft lips and pretended I could see the lust in her eyes. I pretended I could see her teeth as they sunk into her bottom lip to quell the whimpers. I pretended I could see her back arch and her legs shudder. I pretended I could do more than simply listen to the sound of her coming undone in my arms, and I nearly wept with the all-consuming want of it all.

I couldn't help but speed my pace with the sensation of her walls clenched around me. It was ecstasy and torture with every thrust. I grunted, and I hated the way it sounded, but Granger moaned in my ear, and after that who cares? She licked the sweat from the side of my neck, and her hands on my hips forced me harder, faster, and even deeper, just the way she liked it. I spilt into her with a low rumble and barely managed to bear my weight on my elbows.

"I love you," Granger whispered against my lips, and I dropped my forehead to hers.

I felt her smile, and I pulled her into my side the very second I rolled over. She breaths grew long, and I knew she was sleeping. She never expected me to voice my affections, and it still confused me that she had even asked. I hadn't known she was the sort of woman that needed affirmation. I believed Granger already knew how I felt from my actions.

"Granger?" I had to test the waters. I had to be positive she was asleep. I couldn't take the chance that she would hear my confession. It was entirely too dangerous. She sighed deeply and snuggled further into my chest. "I love you." 

* * *

She didn't trust Zabini. I knew she didn't. Hell, I barely trusted him, but there wasn't much I could do about it. What choice was there in the matter? My ultimate goal was Granger's freedom. I couldn't just lie about and dream about it. I had to be proactive.

I couldn't free her, in the same manner, I had freed Hannah. Those options were no longer viable. Theo Nott is beneath the Imperius. It would be suicide to have him escort Granger to the perimeter.

If my mother hadn't secured the blasted tunnels, they would have been an option. I understood her reasoning. Only a Malfoy could utilise them, which really was a blessing. Could you imagine Death Eaters having control of hundreds of kilometres worth of tunnels? They would be unquestionably unstoppable.

There was no way for her to know I would be caged here like an animal. I allowed it, really. I had to pay penance for what I had done, for my part in aiding that insatiable crazed madman. I had to stand strong and lend aid to this fight. I had to ensure that fucking Voldemort never managed to step foot outside the confines of the Manor. Of course, if he brought that terrifying snake here, all bets were off, and we were all fucked.

I knew the Order would never accept me. The prejudices and hatred had been forged for too long. I couldn't bear the thought of Granger fighting yet another battle. She should have a choice, I suppose, but she's Gryffindor. She's my little…loyal, ferocious lion and she would fight for me, of that, I have no doubt. However, I was tired. I was so fucking tired. I just wanted to see this to the end. I wanted to feel secure in the knowledge that my witch would live a long, healthy life.

Granger couldn't refute that either. She knew better than anyone how I was truly despised by those she loved. I didn't want her torn between us. It wasn't fair for her to choose me, not after everything. It wasn't fair of me to consider her mine, not when I had to let her go, but I couldn't help it. She wriggled into my heart, and I couldn't get her the fuck out. I tried, at least in the beginning I tried, but I was a lost cause now.

"Malfoy?" Blaise clamoured down the steps, and it sounded like a herd of bloody hippogriffs.

"Why do you say my name like it's a question? Do you think I'm just wandering around so you need to make sure I'm still here?" My patience was thin, but that wasn't his fault.

"You're still a bastard. I'd pretend to be surprised, but I know better." I listened for the sound of his boots against the unforgiving stone and took my place near the iron bars.

"You should, you've known me for far too long to think otherwise. Come on then, have you got news? I haven't got all day, which isn't true at all. I do, in fact, have all day and night as well, but I'd rather spend it betwixt Granger's thighs than chatting with you, mate."

Blaise grunted his annoyance, and we both paused as we listened to the distinct sounds of my crazy aunt pacing upstairs. She did that quite a lot lately, and it meant she was brooding. She was up to something, and that wouldn't bode well for anyone.

"I sent the owl, and the memory as well. Potter's prepared to set a meeting. Things are getting ugly up there. Bellatrix is set to head out to retrieve that wretched snake, and I can't do fuck all to stop her. I don't think anyone can at this point."

"Except Potter."

"Yeah, perhaps, but who the fuck knows really? He hasn't managed it thus far, and it's not from lack of trying. Theo's a bloody fucking shell of a human being, and I don't think he'll ever properly recover. I've half a mind to put him out of his misery, but…" Blaise paused and concealed the crack of his voice with a less than subtle cough.

Theodore Nott was our mate. He was a bit on the prickly side, and quiet, but he was Slytherin just as much as I was. He wasn't anything anymore, and it hurt me, hurt Blaise, more than we were willing to admit. It probably would have been a kindness to end his suffering. I mean think about it. He's lost the one thing that differentiates us from other beings. He's lost his heart, his mind, and his free will. He's lost that pivotal bit of humanity that makes him more than a snarling animal, and I'm glad he didn't come visit me. I didn't want to see him that way.

"My delightful aunt visits with Granger. I pretend to be bathing or sleeping, but I've heard plenty. It seems the old bastard takes delight in torturing our Theo. We can't…we can't have that Blaise. You've got to talk to the Golden Boy about it." I sighed heavily and rested my head against the freezing iron in order to clear my thoughts.

"You're asking me to give Theo up, aren't you?" Blaise crept closer to me, but he didn't dare touch the bars. He knew better.

"What choice is there? He's been under so long, he'll never be the same. You know Theo. He'll never forgive himself for the things he's done. He never wanted this. He never wanted any of this. He was just…trying to be a good fucking mate, and look what happened to him! I can't live with it any longer, and he shouldn't be forced to." I felt the spittle on my lips, but I didn't care. I was filled with so much fury, I was almost warm.

"It's Yaxley. Did you know that? Fucking Corban Yaxley has Theo under his thumb. Of course, it was him. He fucking Imperiused Thicknesse, remember that? I might be talented, but I'd never stand a chance against the likes of him."

"I didn't ask you to do anything more than inform Potter. With all the information he's been given, he fucking owes me, owes us. It's the least he can do." I reached through the bars and grappled for Zabini's lapel.

"What if…what if the Order dispatches Yaxley. If there's a chance Theo can…" Blaise was grasping at slivers of anything for the sake of hope, and I didn't blame him, I couldn't.

"Kill me." I knew that voice as wretched as it sounded, and my heart broke a little more that day.

I wasn't aware that Theo had cracked open the dungeon door, but he had. He was always a stealthy sort, so I shouldn't have been surprised. There were sporadic moments when Theo was freed from the Curse, for the amusement of the other Death Eaters more than anything else. I was glad I wasn't him, and then I felt guilty for thinking such a thing. War is such a cunt.

"Can't take it much more." Theo wheezed, and from his movements, I knew he braced his thin body against the damp stone walls as he stumbled down the steps. "They're not…letting me eat…anymore. They…force me to drink water…from the toilets. I'll…I'll never be clean again. I'll…never forget. I'll never be me. I just…I just want one moment of absolute freedom." Theo tripped, and I heard him fall with grunts and groans and sobs.

"I've got you. I've got you." Blaise Zabini was crying, and that man never cried.

"I want to…breathe fresh air once more. I want to…I want to feel the sun on my face or even the fucking rain. I want to…feel something, anything…other than the absolute devastation of my soul. I don't deserve it…but I want it." Theo dissolved into horrid sounding sobs, and I didn't blame him, I couldn't.

I wanted to crumple into the fetal position and forget I was a man. I wanted to leave Blaise, with Theo crumpled in his lap and crawl into bed with Granger. I wanted to hold her and be thankful that she was her and I was me. I wanted to scream into the deep dark recesses of the heavens and ask the gods why they had forsaken me, but I didn't do any of that.

"Blaise." There were so many thoughts and emotions in that one simple word nothing else needed to be said. The silence was finally broken by Theo's choked sob and Blaise's heavy exhalation.

"I'll do it."

I knew he'd do it, but I felt better knowing he would. There was nothing else to be said. Slytherin was a band of brothers of few words. I listened as Blaise struggled to heft Theo in his arms and their achingly slow ascent.

I wished I could have seen him…one last time.


	18. 18 - Blaise

I didn't want to do it. I can't even begin to explain how much I didn't want to do it. I would, but only because I'm Slytherin and our word is our bond. It's really the only thing we have. We're cunning and ambitious sure, but we look out for one another. We're not a bunch of dark wizards looking for the next psychotic wizard to lead us into taking over the world. We're not. Alright fine, some of us are, but I'm fucking not.

We're an intelligent bunch. We care, but we're shite at showing such things. We're Pureblood, for the most part, and showing emotion has always been frowned upon. It has always been considered a 'lesser' trait and equated with Hufflepuff, but that's not such a bad thing really. We'd never admit it, but we feel just as deeply, just as strongly as anyone else.

There was a chill in the air, and I wished I was before a crackling fire, rather than trudging through fucking Muggle London. I didn't hate Muggles, but I didn't love them either. I suppose you could say I was quite apathetic about them. As long as they didn't bother me, I wouldn't bother them.

It was safer to meet here, I knew that, but I was filled with anxiety. The sparse group of Death Eaters wandered wherever they liked. They hexed, maimed, mutilated as they saw fit, and there was no one to properly corral them.

The Dark Lord might still hold the title, but what the fuck could he really do? Scare us a bit when he walked through a wall? Don't even get me started on his ability to Imperius from within. I probably should have called it possession, it's really similar to possession, but I detest it. It makes me feel rather ill to think of it, and that's saying quite a lot actually.

I was lost. I was lost in Muggle London. I didn't understand how anything worked there. I wanted to go home, but I probably didn't have a home any longer. I didn't want to be squinting into shops and assessing my location.

"Zabini."

I stopped in the middle of the walk. I felt the Muggles as they pushed passed me, but I didn't care. All I had to do was stand there. I would be found. Gods, I'm a fucking child.

I felt the insistent hand at my elbow and I blindly followed. The clouds were dark and gloomy. It was going to rain, and I couldn't even cast a Warming Charm.

"Is he alright?"

I knew that voice. I didn't like that voice. I didn't like any of this, and damn Draco Malfoy straight to the bowels of Hades. I chanted to myself in order to keep my sanity. I was a coward. I wasn't cut out for this sort of subterfuge madness. I was mad to sip fine wine and shag gorgeous witches.

"Greater good," I mumbled as I was yanked into a disgustingly filthy alley. It smelled like trash, but I was standing next to a Weasley, it could have been him.

"Snap out of it, Zabini." Harry Potter frowned at me, and I really sort of wanted to punch him. I didn't, but I thought about it. "We're getting out of here." He grasped my arm and fuck I hated him.

I don't know where we landed, but I felt ill. Potter was shit at Apparition. At least I was warm and there was food. I was bloody starving, and it looked delicious. From what I could see as I shoved pasties and meat pies in my mouth, it was a cabin.

"He's got worse manners than you, Ron." Potter chuckled and filled a nearby glass with pumpkin juice.

"I don't think…they've been feeding him well." Ron Weasley sat across from me and he didn't curl his lip. There was hope for him yet. There was also a wedding band glinting on his finger, which I found curious.

"He's non-corporeal."

I choked out the words as I swallowed a particularly large piece of meat lodged in my throat. I wanted to give them the information as quickly as possible in order to get back to the Manor. I spent most of my time keeping watch on the dungeon. Without me, anyone could wander down and anything could happen.

"Wait, are you saying Tom Riddle is a…bloody ghost?" I liked the way Potter called Voldemort his birth name. It made him seem less terrifying.

"Basically." I shrugged and didn't offer more than that but only due to the fact I was completely distracted by hot food.

"You've got to give us more than that, Zabini." Potter sighed, but he didn't sound angry.

I paused with a mouthful of Yorkshire pudding lodged in my cheek and took in his appearance. Potter looked a bit haggard really, and Weasley, well he looked the same as always…angry. There was a bit of guilt around the edges, and it made me feel better. At least I wasn't the only bastard feeling guilty.

"What do you want from me, Potter?" I swallowed with difficulty and was grateful for the glass of water Weasley placed in front of me.

"Look, you contacted us. You told us about Nagini…"

"No, that wasn't me. That was Granger." It was easy to interrupt him with tidbits of information such as that.

"Yeah," Potter sighed, "I figured as much. We're…there are enchantments around her, you realise. It's not like we can just take a gander over to Godric's Hollow, pick up Tom's snake and chop her head off." He pulled on that mess upon his head called hair, and Weasley crossed his arms as he tried to intimidate me.

"Doesn't matter. Bellatrix has planned to retrieve the snake. Let her. She'll have to lower the enchantments to transport the beast. It's the only chance you'll have. Once she brings it to the Manor, he'll…well, I don't know what he'll do, but I assume it will have something to do with having a fucking body." I was full and tired, but I didn't have time for a quick kip.

Potter was nodding and scribbling on parchment of all things. He reminded me of Granger during our school days, and I almost smiled. His hair was sticking in every direction and his tongue kept licking the corner of his mouth.

Weasley, on the other hand, just stared at me. I knew he didn't trust me, and the feeling was mutual. I'd never liked him. His temper was going to get someone killed, and I hoped it wouldn't be me. I had enough troubles without worrying about Weasley murdering me.

"Why are you helping us?" Weasley growled and leant forward to brace his arms on the rough wood.

"Malfoy requested it." I had a feeling there were secrets between the duo and I wasn't interested in a row.

"Ya, sure, Draco Malfoy suddenly decided to give us aid when he's been nothing but a ponce since first year." Weasley puffed out his chest in that annoying bit of bravado sort of way, and even Potter rolled his eyes.

"Ron…"

"Harry! You can't expect me to believe that the bloke that called our Hermione a Mudblood is magically in love with her now because some memory from a Death Eater told you so!" Weasley shouted angrily, but that wasn't anything new. I'd never met a man quite as angry as Ronald Weasley. Honestly, I don't know how Granger ever put up with him.

"Look, I've got to go. I've been gone for far too long as it is. There have been whisperings of an attempt at Hogwarts. I don't know why they're so determined to take it, but there's probably some stupid reason or another." I pushed away from the table and winced at the sound of the chair scraping the filthy floor.

"It's his home," Potter shoved Weasley and turned to face me. "It's the first place Tom Riddle felt as though he belonged. It's the way I felt too. We're both orphans, raised by Muggles, and when…" He paused and shook his head, but I saw the way his fingers lightly touched his scar. "It doesn't matter. He wants Hogwarts because he's a petulant child. Thanks, Zabini."

I walked to the door without a backwards glance, but I couldn't not tell him. I didn't consider myself particularly strong, as far as will was concerned, but even the strongest can crumble. I lived for the hope of freedom, and Potter wanted this nightmare over and done just as much as anyone else. I could respect that.

"The tunnels span hundreds of miles. You can't enter them without Malfoy blood. He thinks…he thinks he's got a way to utilise them or at least parts of them. Tell Cissa, 'garden of the Blacks'. I don't know what it means. I don't know anything, other than a Malfoy's word is his bond, and Draco is determined to free Granger."

I heard a bit of sputtering, but I didn't have the time to calm down their Gryffindor tendencies. It was nearly sunset, and the Dark Lord liked us to gather in that moment of twilight. He had a tendency to proselytise and he did love a good audience.

I was late. I was really fucking late. It could never be suggested that The Dark Lord began his revelry earlier than usual. It was damn near heresy to even think such a thing.

I managed to slip in amongst the ranks of drunken Death Eaters and guffawed with false merriment. Fuck, I hated everything about being there, but I couldn't escape. It had taken me ages to earn enough trust to leave the Manor without fucking escorts, and I wasn't going to destroy that thin layer of trust by a wretched performance.

"Oi! Zabini! There you are! Where've you been?!" Antonin Dolohov was a beast of a man, if he could even be called a man.

"Carousing, as usual." I smiled and wiggled my flask. He snorted, but helped himself to a healthy draught and belched loudly.

"Are you ready then? I can't wait, that's for sure. Sick and tired of sitting around here on our laurels while the fucking Order does whatever they please. It's about time we seize the castle." Dolohov chortled and wiped a bit of spittle from the stubble on his chin.

I hoped Potter has gathered his forces. It seemed we were headed into the fray. I didn't enjoy the idea of playing Death Eater when it came to battle, and I usually managed to remain behind and look after Malfoy. I didn't have that option this go round. From what I managed to decipher from Dolohov's garbled grunts was we were going in and going in strong. I didn't have time to warn Potter or even tell Malfoy.

"If you bring him, My Lord, you can attend the massacre." I retreated into the shadows the moment I heard Bellatrix Lestrange's raspy whisper.

The Dark Lord was sporting the skin of some Death Eater I didn't recognise, but the red-rimmed eyes were a telling sign of his occupation. The swagger in the walk and the way he waved his wand was obvious as well, and I didn't like it. I didn't like any of this, but I was just as fucked as everyone else.

"It would expend much energy to properly bind him." Voldy frowned, and I felt his eyes as they landed on me in the darkness. "Utilise him, my dear Bellatrix." I shuddered, but I did not cower.

Bellatrix dragged me forth from the shadows and before I could blink we were in the dungeon. Malfoy had enough sense to remain silent and Granger followed suit. She was scared, Granger was, and I didn't like to think of her as anything less than a ridiculously strong witch.

"They're a matched set, aren't they?" Bellatrix waggled her fingers as though she was peering through the windows of a pet shop, and I remained silent. "They'll need to be bound of course. I've been working on a surprise for quite some time. You'll never guess what it is, and I do think even My Lord will be impressed." Bellatrix sighed dreamily and I managed not to choke on the vomit lodged in my throat.

In the end, Bellatrix was completely correct in her assumptions, and even I had to admit I was impressed. She had crafted a magical box of sorts. It had the look of a gaol, but the bars were enchantments rather than iron. She surrounded it with the strongest of Charms laced with Dark Magic I'd never even encountered. Her final touch, with a raucous cackle, was the Silencing Charm. It was cruel, but that was Bellatrix Lestrange.

I was charged with transportation, and it was strenuous, to say the least. Utilising the thestrals was a nice touch, but I still didn't like it. If I thought for one moment, I could transport Malfoy and Granger somewhere safe, I would have done it. If I thought I could have managed such a feat and lived? It wouldn't have been a question either, but I'm selfish. I wanted to fucking live too.

I set them near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It seemed as good a place as any. It was close enough that Granger could see her lot, and far from the casting of hexes and jinxes. I didn't think anything could penetrate Bella's defences, but I didn't want to take the chance. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to either of them.

The Order was prepared, and I was grateful that my information wasn't discarded. They surrounded Hogwarts with a nifty little spell, and sure, they had used it before, but it never ceased to amaze me. The entire castle was surrounded by this nearly impenetrable bubble of magic.

I could hear Granger pounded on the magical barrier between us, but with Dolohov and Yaxley nearby, I couldn't risk anything. All our lives were on the line. I nearly shat myself when Voldemort himself stood beside me.

"Lead them." He hissed, and Yaxley snickered with glee.

The man was damned near salivating with the idea of murder, and it turned my stomach, but violence had always had such an effect on me. My limbed quivered as I watched the angry horde of Death Eaters roar as if they were one and charge toward my home.

Hogwarts was my home. I knew it wasn't just mine, we all felt that way to some extent. The orphans, the abused, and even the lonely, Hogwarts was our home and this fucking piece of trash was going to destroy the one place we held dear, and there was nothing I could do about it.

My heart clenched when I spied the twitchy movements of Theo Nott. I kept my eyes glued to him, but it didn't stop me from seeing my fellow students. I admired their bravery, and for the barest hint of a moment, I wondered what it would be like to fight to the death for something I believed in the way they did.

"They're here." I stood beside Malfoy's encasement and spoke to Granger the moment the Dark Bastard weaved through his minions. "Finnegan, Longbottom, Thomas, McMillan, Weasley, oh look another Weasley, fuck there's too many Weasleys, just assume they're all here."

I cast casual spells when members of the Order wandered too close, but my aim wasn't to harm them. I knew Granger was going absolutely mad. She could see her loved ones and yet they were just beyond reach. If I had been a sentimental sort of wizard, I probably would have shed a tear or two, but I didn't.

I risked a look at them during the midst of spells flying and shouts ringing through the air. Malfoy was huddled on the ground with his head buried in his arms, and Granger was stroking his hair. I knew they could hear everything, and that made it that much worse. He could…they could fucking smell freedom, and it was just beyond their grasp.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Crucio!"

The Order was never going to win if they refused to cast Unforgivables. The Death Eaters didn't care if they wounded, maimed, or killed. The Order was entirely too kind and it was going to kill them in the end.

I kept my eyes on Dolohov and Yaxley. Those two worked as a team, and if they hadn't been sadistic bastards, it would have been admirable. Instead, I watched them cackle and whoop with glee when children fell at their feet.

"Finnegan is reckless. He's always been that way, but it's…" I choked on the words.

"Foolish child." Antonin Dolohov stood over Seamus Finnegan, but that bloody Gryffindor didn't even cringe in fear. He simply stared up at the hulking Death Eater with dirt smudged on his chin and defiance in his eyes. "Avada Kedavra."

Granger stared in horror, but she remained silent, even as the tears streamed down her cheeks. I understood her silence. Malfoy trembled in her arms, and her concern for him overrode her distress.

"SEAMUS!" That idiot Thomas had a good hiding place.

I had seen the spells flashing from behind a particularly large boulder. He had Stunned more than a few Death Eaters. He was talented, but he was foolish. He allowed his emotions to get the best of him. I had always thought there was more than friendship between Finnegan and Thomas, but now I would never know. I hoped they would be happy together…in the afterlife.

Poncy Weasley advanced toward me. I didn't want to kill a Weasley, well, not that Weasley. Alright fine, I didn't want to kill any Weasley, but I couldn't allow him to capture me. I couldn't allow him to kill me, for that matter.

"Percy, leave it be." Thank fuck for Potter. I almost hated myself for even thinking such a thing, but I had a wand lodged in my throat.

"Harry, that's…that's Hermione…" Percy Weasley was almost a sanctimonious prat, and even I could see he wavered for a moment.

"I know, leave it be." Potter glanced at Granger, and I couldn't look.

Instead, I kept my eyes on the wanker Weasley as he glowered at me. His wand twitched in his fingers, and I knew if I so much as coughed, I would be dead. I didn't trust him. He didn't trust me, but hopefully, we both trusted Harry bleeding Potter.

"Potter, Bellatrix."

I shivered when I saw her glance in my direction. She didn't bellow or narrow her eyes, but she was impossible to read on the battlefield. Her hair was wild and blowing in the ominous breeze. She stood faithfully beside Lord Crazy, and the moment her lips moved, I struck.

"Stupefy!" I cast the spell at Poncy Weasley and Potter yelped. "You've got to Stun me or we're both dead." I snarled my lips angrily in order to appease the deadly stare stemming from the Psychopath Twins.

Potter jinxed me and I threw myself backwards. I knew he wouldn't fucking stun me. Bastard nearly ruined everything with fucking tickling. I mean honestly, I don't know how he managed to go so bloody far without the brains behind the operation.

I slumped against Malfoy's encasement and watched Poncy Weasley turn tail and run the moment he stumbled to his feet. He didn't even try to Stun Bellatrix. The fear in his eyes belied his House, and I was ashamed for him.

"Look at the coward run!" Bellatrix Lestrange's voice carried and I squinted my eyes and groaned.

"There's no place on either side for cowards, Bella. Do what you must." Voldy turned his beady red eyes toward Potter, and I didn't want to be caught in the crossfire.

We all knew better than to attempt to end Harry Potter. It wouldn't be held against me. I wouldn't be punished for standing idly by.

Potter quirked his head to the side and studied the strange form of his nemesis. He frowned, and then he ran. He ran toward The Dark Lord. He was a fucking maniac.

I lost sight of Poncy but only because I couldn't take my eyes off Potter, and I don't mean that in a sexy sort of way. I was literally in awe. He wasn't afraid of Voldemort. He wasn't afraid to face him down. He wasn't afraid to die, and I was terrified of all those things.

Greyback was crouched near the edge of the wood, and I hoped Potter wouldn't venture directly into the forest. Greyback wasn't the sort that easily bent to Lord Crazy's demands, and I could imagine him easily tearing Potter limb from limb.

"That git Nott is fighting me off again." I literally saw red.

I always believed it to be a myth. I thought it was simply something people said when they were incapable of quantifying their rage. I was rage. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. I could feel the magic bursting forth from my fingertips. For the first time in my pathetic existence, I understood bloodlust.

I don't remember raising my wand. I don't remember any words falling from my lips. I don't remember anything other than seeing the bright flash of green light spew forth from my wand and strike Corban Yaxley directly in the chest. I remember the sound of his body hitting the ground, and I felt relieved.

I desperately searched the faces of Death Eaters and Order members alike, but I didn't see him. I couldn't find him. Voldy and Potter were having one of their shouting matches, but that wouldn't amount to anything, even I knew that. I didn't even care. I needed to find Theo, but then he was there.

"I'm free. I'm…I'm free!" Theodore Nott stretched his limbs and looked upon his hands as though he hadn't seen them in ages.

I wanted to run toward him. I wanted to hug him fiercely and tell him everything would be alright. The heavy weight that had been wedged onto my chest from the moment I arrived at Malfoy fucking Manor was lighter than it had been, and I needed that. He needed that. I felt as though we had a chance. We could fucking make it. We could live.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Theo Nott fell with tears of joy in his dark eyes and a wide smile on his thin lips. I felt as though the world was ripped from beneath me. I would never be the same. I was filled with so much fucking hate I could barely see, and it was difficult to transition from elation to fury, but I managed.

I could hear Granger pummeling the encasement, but I only had eyes for the wizard that murdered my friend. My arms were shaking with the need to throttle the bloke, but I couldn't. I wasn't close enough to touch him and the fucking Dark Lord was demanding a retreat.

"You're a dead man, Ronald Weasley. A fucking dead man."


	19. 19 - Bellatrix

Never repeat this, you must swear it. I can't tell you the guilt I feel for even thinking such a thing, let alone admitting it. Oh, I've got your attention do I? Wonderful. Are you ready? Here it is.

There are days when I miss the confines of Azkaban.

There. I've said it. I'm not particularly proud, but it's true. Sure, they say I'm a bit unhinged now, but you would be too. The Dementors were harsh and unforgiving, but at least they were there. I was comforted by the sounds of the other prisoner's screams.

It was akin to being sung to sleep. It was a beautiful melody, and I had grown accustomed to it, but now it's all different. I don't like change. I don't like silence. I don't like whispers.

I want to shriek Curses and Hexes into the air. I want to cackle with soul strumming glee when I watch my enemies fall. I want to step over the bodies of my comrades as we ruthlessly destroy everything in our paths. I want to feel powerful. I want to feel the magicks crackling in the air, and feel my hair stand on end. I don't think that's too much to ask, is it?

I can't go about freely stating such things. I tried that once. I was being ungrateful. Can you imagine? Me? Ungrateful? Utterly ridiculous poppycock if you ask me, but like I said, no one is fucking asking me.

It's no wonder I venture into the dungeons. Bollocks, that's a secret as well. Be a dear and keep that to yourself would you? They wouldn't understand. They're all louts really. They think bathing is optional, and they're constantly filling the Manor with the scent of their bodily functions. Men are disgusting, but Death Eaters are worse.

My puppy understands. She's a wonderful listener. I'm positive it's due to her terror, but that's not important. She understands me. She offers advice, and she's kind. Sometimes a woman simply needs another woman, and I am a woman dammit. Contrary to current beliefs, I do have feelings.

I know, it doesn't seem as if I do. I mean, I didn't give much thought to ending that horrible Mother Weasley now did I? I didn't give a thought to her motherless children, and if I'm being honest, I still don't quite care. It's war. What did you expect would happen? Did you really think everyone would just run off into a meadow of flowers and live happily ever after? You did? I'm shocked, and a little disappointed in you, really.

People are going to die. We've lost a fair share on our end as well, so don't think you're special or anything. If there's one thing I've learned, none of us are special. We're all expendable. Yes, even me. I don't have high hopes of making it out of this alive, and it doesn't bother me.

That's yet another lie. It does, but what sort of life could I expect to have if the fucking Order wins? I'd be back in Azkaban before I could hex a bitch. I haven't the slightest idea if the wondrous Light is utilising Dementors, but if they are? Every sweet moment I've ever spent wrapped in the arms of my Lord would turn to dust. I can't have that. He is the only light in my life. Therefore, when the moment comes, I choose to greet Death as an old friend.

We've had our skirmishes, and I know, deep within my deep, dark soul, Death will be pleased to take me. I can't take much more really. My Love is as similar to his former self as a butterfly is to a nasty caterpillar. He's a shell, and I understand it, but it's killing me.

He's breaking my heart. I think that's what it is anyway. I'm not well versed in matters of tossers. Love is an illusion, but I have to credit something with this horrible feeling in my chest. My puppy says it's some form of warped affection.

I've grown fond of her, which is dangerous. I know who she is, but I allow her to think I'm a fool. She's only a Mudblood anyway, what does it matter? Don't even think it! I'm not going fucking soft. I don't have a soft bone in my body. I hate you.

Fine! Fine, I like her. I'm fairly certain I've already alluded to such things, what the fuck does it matter now to freely admit them. She's nice to me! Do you know how long its been since someone has been nice to me without a wand shoved into their throat? No, I don't imagine you would.

"My dear, dear Bella," I heard His sinfully silky voice and my knickers were instantly damp. Don't judge me, I can't fucking help it. "I've never known you to converse with yourself."

When I spun on my pointed heel, I gasped. He was ensconced within a Death Eater. He's been practicing, but I could still see Him within. He truly had chosen well.

"I apologise My Lord. I am simply growing restless. It's difficult to make plans rather than cause screams." I shuddered as my knees slammed to the floor of my bedchamber.

The Dark Lord slowly walked around me, and while the large hands that stroked my tangled mane were not his, I felt him in every caress. He pushed my black tresses off my face and gathered them near the base of my neck in a strong fist. I gasped and looked into His dim red eyes.

"I am…unaccustomed to the needs of…this particular…body." My Lord struggled with his phrases, and He never struggled.

"I don't understand, My Lord." I honestly hadn't the slightest clue what the fuck He was trying to tell me.

I bit my lip until it bled when He hauled me to my feet by my hair. I knew better than to voice my discontent. I never had particularly enjoyed punishments, even if they were well deserved. I've always been a bit naughty, but Lord Voldemort could be exceedingly cruel.

My breath rushed from my lungs with a grunt when He slammed me over the side of my four-poster bed. I was excited and terrified all at once, which only added to the puddle in my knickers. I was afraid to close my eyes. I might miss something, but then He was touching me.

The Death Eater's body was strong and muscular. He was tall, so very tall, and his tapered chest did things to me. His waist was trim, and fuck was he fit. I don't know how or why He chose the body He did, but I couldn't argue with it, nor did I want too.

I felt cool fingertips on the back of my neck. He wrestled with the silk covered buttons on my black lace dress, and I was afraid to breathe. This wasn't the usual manner of such things. Ordinarily, He would order me to disrobe, squeeze my throat, and thrust into me from behind.

I didn't mind. I never minded, but this was different, and it frightened me, which was saying quite a lot. Frightened **me**! I am not the sort of witch that is easily afraid, but when faced with the tender fingers of the Dark Lord, well, you'd be terrified as well.

He pinned my hands over my head, and I knew better than to move. Despite Lord Voldemort's altered attitude, I knew He still expected unadulterated obedience. I would not disappoint Him.

The hot breath that suddenly graced the back of my thigh caused me to squirm. He didn't much like that, and I was rewarded…or punished…with a harsh slap on my arse cheek. I realised later, it wasn't His hand, it stung much too much for that.

"Open." His ragged fingernails scratched across the tender flesh of my thighs, and I knew what He wanted.

It was difficult to be so fucking obedient, but I did what He asked of me. I always adhered to My Love, but in the bedroom, it had always been different. He was never interested in pleasing me, but He had, oh, He had. His delicious cock had always filled me in ways nothing else ever had, but it was gone now, and I mourned for its loss.

"Ow! My Lord, did you just…did you just fucking bite me?!" I was absolutely furious with Him, and I had no qualms in shouting at Him, not then.

My Love, my delicious, glorious Love, flipped me onto my back, and I had enough sense to remain still. His eyes were not that brilliant red I'd grown to love. They were dim, nearly black with what looked like lust, but that was fucking impossible.

"Incarcerous." My Lord groaned, and I never heard that sort of groan emanate from between His thin lips before.

He fucking bound me to the wrought iron headboard, and there wasn't fuckall I could do about it. I was less than pleased, but I had to admit there was a spark of pride within me. His dulled red eyes seemed incapable of straying far from my bared breasts.

I wasn't a young witch any longer, and even I had to admit I was concerned as to my appearances, but He licked his lips in what seemed to be appreciation. When the fuck had I lost my dress? When had He disrobed me? I don't expect you to know, but I didn't know either.

"M-my Lord?" I was nervous, and I didn't get nervous.

He stood near the foot of the bed, and slowly He began to disrobe. I held my breath when His cloak was pushed off his wide shoulders, and I couldn't stop my eyes from following the thin trail of hair that sunk into his britches. My breaths were shallow as He removed his belt, and shoved His black slacks off His narrow hips.

He was mad, absolutely mad. I shrieked, and I'm not ashamed, not in the least. You don't understand. The size and girth of the monster hidden within his slacks would be enough to make a troll sob. I appreciate a fine specimen of man just like any other witch, but I have fucking limits.

It rivalled the length of my wand, and I don't need to tell you it was no slouch in the length department. The girth, sweet Salazar, the girth…I've seen smaller snakes, and I lived with fucking Nagini. Fine, you're absolutely right, I am exaggerating. Suffice it to say, it was definitely thicker than a garden vegetable, and I definitely shouted until I was hoarse.

My Lord confused me. He paused and stared at me, but I couldn't discern His intentions. He simply allowed me to scream, and the louder I screamed the wider He smiled. It seemed, The Dark Lord was drawing pleasure from my pain, and I didn't much like the implications of that.

My wrists were chafing in the leather bonds that held me tight, and I knew they were raw and angry. I continued to struggle against them and paused only when I realised His gaze was trained on the bouncing of my breasts. I could see Him within the man, and it was unnerving, especially when He climbed up my nude body.

His teeth were pretty. I had to give Him that, even though I can't say I was particularly fond of them sinking into my skin. I winced more than once as He nipped the flesh at my hips, my ribs, and even the underside of my breasts. I could feel that terrifyingly large length harden against my inner thighs, and I shuddered.

"My dearest Bellatrix," Lord Voldemort crooned into my ear, and His hot breath against me made me shiver in delight. You're judging me, I know you are. I can't fucking help it. I love Him. "The human body is a curious structure. It has desires of its own, did you know this?" He squeezed my left breast with his large hand, and I knew it was going to bruise.

"N-no, My Lord." I had to admit, it was titillating to have The Dark Lord wedged between my semi-willing thighs.

"Hmm, I wouldn't think you would." I gasped and shifted beneath him, but it didn't matter. He would do what He wished. Apparently, what He wished was to probe my sex with His fingers, and I didn't know what to make of it. "You are my most…dedicated follower. You are long overdue your…pleasure, aren't you?" I nearly died, I'm not joking in the least.

He curled his finger within me and touched a place I didn't know existed in the first place. My heart was beating so furiously, I couldn't hear anything besides the sound of my gasps. My Dark Lord chuckled against my throat. I didn't know He was capable of such a sound, and yet there it was.

My eyes fluttered shut as I neared the precipice, but then He was gone. I huffed my exasperation, but it was lost. My Love had roughly forced me onto my face and yanked my black curls in a practised fist. I felt the tears pricking the corners of my eyes, but I knew better than to let them fall.

"I do rather enjoy pleasure laced with pain." Lord Voldemort hissed just before He struck me.

I winced against the feel of the leather straps stinging across my skin, and I felt as though my silence pleased Him. I wasn't accustomed to His attentions. It had always been a means to an end before, and I was grateful, thankful even for the feel of His body against mine.

I can't say I enjoyed being on the receiving end of pain. I had always been the sort of witch, the sort of woman, that had revelled in the delight of causing pain. It was a completely different matter to be whipped across the back and buttocks by the man you sort of loved.

I don't know how to properly describe the sensations. It was pain, yes, but it wasn't…necessarily painful. It was stinging slashes along my skin that made my nipples harden and my muscles tighten. I had to admit The Dark Lord was adept at such practices. There were moments when I was nearly certain I couldn't take another strike, He would caress my skin with soft hands and smooth lips.

"Prepare yourself."

I felt my eyes widen at His whispered words, and then I was on my back. He spread my thighs with a painfully strong grip. He twisted my sore, hardened nipples while He grunted. I barely had time to draw a full breath before He was shoving that monstrosity into me.

"No, no, no." I chanted as my body stretched to accommodate the ridiculous size of His cock.

It hurt. Gods did it hurt. It burned as well, and I was certain my loins had burst into flames. He covered my mouth with His hand to keep my screams to nothing more than a whimper. My Lord barely paused as He worked His way into me, and continuously hissed in pleasure. He tweaked my nipple with His free hand and smiled as the tears dripped from my eyes.

This wasn't love. This wasn't adoration. This wasn't anything I had imagined, and I wanted it to end. It didn't, of course, it didn't. The war waged on until finally, The Dark Lord was finally fully seated within me.

"I think I might be forced to keep this body." Voldemort crooned with a sardonic smile as He withdrew.

Is this how women felt when they were plundered without permission? Is this the sort of pain they endured? If I had been a different sort of person, I probably would have been ashamed. However, it's not as if I was the one ravishing their unwilling bodies.

"Please, My Lord, I can't." What the fuck was I doing? I was begging. Begging! I had never begged for anything in my life!

"Oh Bella, you can. You will. You want to please me, don't you?" My beautiful Tom Riddle was nothing more than a monster as He smiled down at me.

He grasped my hips and His thrusts nearly tore me in two. My body was a fucking traitor, I'll tell you that. It enjoyed the friction of His thick cock, and it shuddered beneath Him. I felt the waves of pleasure, and it was then that I felt the shame. I couldn't stop them. I didn't want them, and my wants were never held in consideration.

I choked on the sound of my sobs and He thrust harder and faster. I shook my head, and silently willed Him to finish, but still, He raged on. His hands wrapped around my throat, and for a moment, I honestly believed He was going to murder me. I almost felt grateful that it would end, but I was wrong.

"I've heard…my Death Eaters…claim…there is no…finer joy…than coming in a witch…" He spoke between thrusts and my back stung as the sweat mixed with the lashes.

I didn't have the strength to argue with Him. I didn't want to anger Him lest He cause more damage. I closed my eyes and allowed the motion to lull me into apathy.

The Tom Riddle I loved, was dead and gone. Perhaps He always had been. He truly was nothing more than a monster. I had been blind. I had been foolish. I was damned, but fuck all of that self-pity nonsense. What I really needed was to kill something.

It didn't matter that I felt as though I was being ripped in half. It didn't matter that I could feel The Dark Lord releasing some random Death Eater's seed into me. Things such as that were easily rectified with a first-year spell or even a Potion. What mattered the most? I'll tell you.

My Lord spoke as He fucked me. He told me of His plans to ambush the Order, and it made me hot. He described in achingly delicious detail the way He would maim, dismember, and kill. I was panting like the whore I am, and then I was coming. The pain and the pleasure converged together in a heart-pounding, body-tensing ripple of ecstasy. What more could a girl want?

Later, as we crept into the Forbidden Forest, I winced with each step. I wasn't looking forward to another romp with that particular cock, but I'd never speak such a thing. Lord Voldemort had already demanded I accompany His Death Eaters knickerless, and I knew if we succeeded, He'd fuck me on Hogwarts lawns.

I wasn't displeased to leave Him behind. The delicious Tom Riddle was incapable of vacating Malfoy Manor in His current form, and He relied upon me. I would do anything He wished, and He wished me to wreak havoc, and I couldn't argue with that.

"There's a Weasley." Dolohov's chest rumbled with pleasure.

I rolled my eyes. I mean honestly, the Weasleys are like the fleas in the dungeons. You can't take a step without squishing one of them. I'd much rather converge upon Potter, but I wasn't permitted to murder the little orphan.

"DEATH EATERS!" That fucking Weasley wasted no time in alerting the enemies to our presence, but I cackled in delight as I watched him run.

He didn't run toward us. He didn't wield his wand and shout spells in our direction. He was a coward. He was running away. I wondered how many Weasleys were cowards in disguise, and gave chase.

He bobbed and weaved in the underbrush, but his red hair was a bloody beacon. I knew I didn't have to give direction. Dolohov and Yaxley were more than capable of taking control of the straggling Death Eaters. They were more than just the brawn, and while I didn't trust them, I didn't trust anyone.

"Expelliarmus!" The spectacled Weasley's voice wavered, and I pouted in his direction, unsurprised my wand didn't budge.

"You'll never win with spell work like that, Weasley." I smiled broadly, and he stumbled.

I didn't want to hex his back as he fell arse over head down a small hill. I wanted him to look me in the eyes. I wanted him to know it was me that would bring him to his end.

"Light will always prevail over Dark!" He was a cheeky fellow, but there was fear in his eyes.

"And yet here you lay. Are you going to beg? I do wish you'd beg. I find it so…titillating." I crouched close and tore his wand from his disgustingly freckled hands.

"My name is Percy Weasley. You killed my mother." The little blight on humanity actually dared to stare me down, as if I would be intimidated by the fear in his eyes.

"Hmm, yes I did. In fact, I blasted her to bits if I recall correctly. It was better than Christmas." I leered into his freckled face as I felt the tingles that accompanied death and destruction fill my soul. "Don't worry dear, you'll join her soon."

It was a simple flick of my wand. I barely had to put any thought into it at all. I had cast the Killing Curse more times than I could count, and I was proud of it. My skin rippled with delight as he fell, and I barely gave him another thought.

I am Bellatrix Lestrange, and I shall not be defeated by the likes of blood traitors. I revelled in the euphoria for longer than I should. I knew it, and yet I couldn't help but bask in the glory. It had been entirely too long since I had been allowed into the fray.

"Crucio!" I doubled over from the shock more than from the pain and snarled in the direction of the caster.

"Potter! Better, but you still don't quite mean it, do you? Poor boy, you'll never learn, will you?" I taunted him, and his green eyes were downright murderous.

"Fuck you." Harry bloody Potter had a nasty little mouth on him.

I narrowed my eyes and hissed, but not at Potter. Dolohov had his wand trained on Public Enemy Number One, and if The Dark Lord discovered we had murdered His nemesis, there would be hell to pay. There were too many of them, the Order I mean, and I knew our chance of recovering Hogwarts was slim, but that didn't mean we couldn't take as many with us as possible.

"What would your Mudblood say to hear you speak in such fashion, Potter? Dolohov, your left!" I never took my eyes off the troublesome boy, but even I could see a handful of wizards rushing toward us.

"Avada Kedavra!" Dolohov spun on his heel, and within a blink, the boy was dead.

It seemed the act had angered his lover perhaps, as another wizard, a pretty black one no less, came charging down from the castle. It was quick and easy work for Yaxley to dispose of him as well. If they were all going to charge at us, we might as well just stand still and wait for them to arrive.

"I'm going to kill you." Potter's wand hand was shaking, and I knew it was with fury.

"Perhaps, but, not today my dear boy." I scrunched my nose and resisted the urge to ruffle his ridiculously unkempt black hair. "Pay me a visit some time. Malfoy Manor, I'm sure you remember it well. Your Mudblood could use a bit of company. She's only got me…and the Death Eaters of course. She's been…most accommodating." I allowed the innuendo to hang in the air.

Gods, it was so easy to rile him. His upper lip twitched, and his breaths came forth in great puffs. I wondered how he managed to keep from snapping his wand. It was almost as if time had halted. We simply stared at one another, and only hate filled the silences.

"I'm coming for you." Harry Potter growled, but a great shout in the distance startled him. He spared me another glance over his shoulder as he ran toward the castle. It seemed even Harry Potter had a master and when master beckons…

"I'll be waiting!" I waved happily with a grand smile.

The ground was strewn with bodies, and I knew My Dark Lord would be pleased. What more could a girl ask for?


	20. 20 - The Narrator

_The bodies littering the battlefield were many. The losses suffered nearly crippled each side, yet there were no tears shed that day. The slate grey clouds that hung low in the sky were the perfect setting for the ominous tension that littered the air._

 _Harry Potter clutched his head and rocked to and fro. The door to the washroom was locked and warded, but it didn't stop the screaming within. His lips were parted in silent screams that were lodged in his throat._

 _The crumpled parchment in his fist was dampened with tears and even the corners were torn. Once more, Harry laid it upon the cool tile and read the words through hazy tear filled eyes. He held a fist over his heart and wished he could squeeze the throbbing organ to quell the agony._

 _The memory phial was still safely stored in the inner pocket of his cloak. Harry didn't know what to do, which wasn't remotely close to the truth. He knew if he were Hermione, the letter and the phial would be well on its way to the Minister for Magic, but he wasn't Hermione._

 _Harry James Potter knew he was obstinate, stubborn beyond belief, but also courageous. It did him no good in situations such as his current predicament. He wavered in his beliefs. He wavered in his loyalties. He wavered in nearly everything, and there was nothing to be done. It was a fine line between right and wrong, between black and white, and his best mate had charged forward and blurred the lines._

 _Narcissa Malfoy twisted the door handle and stepped into the cramped washroom. It had been a simple matter to breach his wards. She knew Harry was distraught, and when his ability to formulate clear thought was compromised, so was everything else._

 _"The Minister wishes to arrange burials." She spoke softly so as not to startle him, but she didn't expect the keening that escaped his parted lips._

 _"She was there," Harry sobbed into the sodden sleeves of the cloak. "She was right there, and I couldn't bring her home."_

 _"Perhaps not, but that is not why you're weeping." Narcissa choked down her revulsion and sat beside Harry Potter on the frigid floor._

 _"How can I tell the Minister? How can I tell Arthur? This will ruin him. He just…he just lost Percy and if he lost…" Harry sniffled and nearly gargled the vat of bogies in his throat._

 _"Once upon a time, I felt much as you. I feared for the safety of my son and visited an old friend under the cover of night. Eventually, I was forced to confide in my husband, and I wished I had informed him sooner. It was a blight on the last remaining vestiges of our relationship, and I should have apologised for keeping such worries to myself." Narcissa lifted the tear stained bit of parchment from the dirty tile and sighed. "Come to the Burrow, Arthur is in seclusion, but he'll see you."_

 _"I'd…need a Pensieve," Harry angrily wiped across his dripping nostrils and nodded in agreeance._

 _"I'll arrange it with the Minister. We'll keep the gathering small, but this is entirely too important to allow emotions to interfere." Narcissa struggled to her feet and left the cosy washroom without another word._

 _She tucked the parchment into the pocket of her powder blue robes and hefted a heavy sigh. It wasn't her place to bear such news to Arthur Weasley, or to anyone else for that matter. However, it was still painful for her, only so far as she knew it would bring further pain to a family that had come to mean so much to her._

* * *

 _Poppy Caxton Weasley kept her head low and her smile strong. She wasn't the sort of witch to stir the cauldron, especially when tempers were short, and anxiety was high. It wasn't in her nature. She only wished her husband wasn't languishing in a darkened bedchamber within the confines of the Order Headquarters._

 _She much preferred when he was offering her knowing smiles and holding her tight as they slept. She knew it had been difficult for him, as it had been for them all. She knew his affections for Hermione Granger ran deep, and part of her worried if he would abandon her once the witch returned._

 _Poppy supposed she would make due, as she always had. There was always a reason to smile, her Hufflepuff nature demanded it. She loved Ron, more than she had ever loved anyone, and that fact alone scared her, for now, she had something to lose._

 _Ron Weasley and Poppy Caxton had married in a simple ceremony. Their nuptials were spoken in the small garden of Grimmauld Place. Ron had considered marrying at the Burrow, but the memories of his mother were still too strong._

 _To be fair, he had vacillated on the matter of marrying while Hermione was held captive. Poppy tried to understand, truly, she did, but she simply did not have the bond with Hermione Granger that Ron Weasley had. She was a bit jealous, to be honest._

 _She had noticed Ronald Weasley years before he even knew she existed. She had never been the sort that fought for any kind of cause, no matter how big or small it was, yet she was fervently loyal to her friends and what was left of her family._

 _Poppy spent most of her time during Hogwarts willing away the hours playing Gobstones, and she had done quite well, but what did it matter now? The world was a cesspool of death and mayhem, which made it quite difficult to keep her optimism shining brightly. She loved Ron, however, there were moments, minuscule moments mind you, which she couldn't help but wonder if he truly felt the same._

 _"Oi, Poppy? What are ya doing down here?" Ron frowned heavily and Poppy offered a cheery smile._

 _"Things were a little much for me, I'm afraid, and I thought it best to take a bit of time to centre myself."_

 _Ron scowled at the light film of dirt layered on the cellar floor. He'd never been fond of the moments Poppy slipped away. He rather preferred her nestled into his side. It made the entire situation easier to bear, and the aching empty space in his heart, less painful._

 _"Where is everyone?" Ron's stomach growled loudly and Poppy shook her head._

 _Her dark blonde waves kissed her cheek as she struggled to her feet. She crossed the creaky old floor and wrapped her thin arms around Ron's waist. Poppy inhaled against the rough flannel and crinkled her nose in distaste._

 _"You're only wondering because your stomach wishes to be full. I'll rustle you up some vittles, but for the love of Merlin, you need to bathe. I can't stand the stench of it." Poppy pulled away and brushed her hands down the front of her plaid pleated skirt._

 _"I'm hungry for something alright." Ron wiggled his eyebrows, and she couldn't help the light giggle that escaped her thin lips._

 _Ron had already begun unbuttoning her white blouse and quickly freed her small breasts. It wasn't a minute later, and he was firmly lodged between her thighs, grunting much like a hog. It wasn't romantic. It wasn't sweet nothings and tender caresses, and Poppy didn't care for it in the least._

 _"Let's have a baby." Ron crooned in her ear as he hefted her meaty thighs around his waist._

 _"Now isn't the time." Poppy breathed with a wince as his large fingers dug into the ample skin of her arse._

 _"It'll never be the time. I want children, Poppy. I want them with you, and I'm tired of waiting for the end of this blasted war." Ron thrust particularly hard and ignored her gasp. "Hermione's never going to come back, and even if she does, it won't be the same. She's Malfoy's plaything, and she should have been mine." Ron spilt himself into his sickened wife with a happy smile and a nuzzle to her cheek._

 _"I refuse to have a child with a man still pining after a childhood sweetheart." Poppy shoved at his large chest and refused to cry._

 _"I'm sorry, love. I've always been a fool. I didn't mean it like that. I mean, I don't still want her, I swear it." Ron looked a bit pained which is the only reason Poppy stilled in her efforts toward release._

 _"Explain, right now." Poppy's usually soft voice was harsh and grating, and Ron quickly let her legs fall to the floor._

 _He took a few moments to compose his thoughts as he zipped his slacks and sneered at the mess stuck to his thighs. The skirmish at Hogwarts was wreaking havoc with his ability to function. Nearly every time he closed his eyes, he could see his mates falling to the wayside._

 _"I saw her," Ron whispered with his blue eyes cast toward the ground. "Hermione I mean, I saw her during the skirmish. She didn't see me. I don't know if she saw anyone other than Malfoy. Malfoy was huddled into this pathetic ball in the corner of some sort of magical containment. He looked horrid, and that's saying a lot considering the mess of sixth year."_

 _"What does any of that have to do with you wanting a baby while lamenting your loss of Hermione?" Poppy buttoned her blouse angrily._

 _"It doesn't, not really. I've been…having issues. I don't want Hermione like that, not anymore. I wouldn't have married you if I did. It wouldn't have been very fair to either of us. I know I'm not the handsomest or the smartest, but I love you," said Ron._

 _The sounds of footsteps overhead drew their attention, and they both knew it was only a matter of seconds before members of the Order discovered their whereabouts. Ron didn't know how to put his emotional upheaval into words. He knew how he felt, at least, he was fairly certain he knew, and it was in those moments he missed Hermione Granger the most._

 _"You might love me, but your eyes tell me you wish she was here so you wouldn't have to speak for yourself." Poppy crossed her thin arms across her modest bosom and dared Ron to refute her words._

 _"I-I," Ron stammered and his shoulders slumped. "I killed a man." He ignored Poppy's gasp and closed his eyes before he lost his nerve. "I thought he was a threat. I didn't know, and I've got to inform Harry and the rest of the Order. They're never going to believe me, let alone forgive me."_

 _"I'll forgive you, but that still doesn't tell me why you'd want to have a baby now, especially after all that."_

 _"Because…either they'll send me to Azkaban or I'll wind up being killed in another skirmish, and I wanted a piece of me to remain behind. I didn't want it to be like Percy, where all we have is the memories of what a ponce he was. I don't want to be forgotten." Ron blushed heavily and squirmed in embarrassment._

 _Poppy Caxton Weasley tucked a blonde wave behind her ear and opened her arms. Ron hurried forward and embraced his wife. He liked that she was a taller sort of woman. She didn't get lost in his arms, and there were moments when she made him feel safe, and this was one of those moments. It was many hours before they were discovered, still wrapped in each other arms._

* * *

 _Tom Riddle was quite pleased with his accomplishments thus far. He hadn't managed to murder the insufferable Harry Potter as of yet, but it was only a matter of time before the boy fell. Lord Voldemort lamented the loss of true form._

 _While the invention of his horcruxes allowed him to maintain a humanesque form, it was severely lacking in comparison to his previous body. The Dark Lord knew he had been a strapping young man at one point. It stroked his ego when lovely witches both young and old fawned over him for simply existing._

 _Now, of course, his most loyal Death Eater was a terribly psychotic witch. She was exceptionally needy, truth be told, but even the darkest of wizards require human companionship. He'd never utter the words aloud, but Bellatrix Lestrange did manage to bring him comfort in the darkest of times._

 _"My Lord," A young, filthy, nervous Death Eater grovelled at the feet of the Lord Voldemort, his eyes downcast._

 _"Speak." Voldemort sighed and tented his fingers._

 _It was better to be interrupted while his thoughts strayed toward the past. He didn't have the time to relive his errors. He needed to spend his precious moments contemplating his future, and the gloriousness he would bring to the Wizarding World once more._

 _"The cell, uh, the cell in the cellars…it's…well, it's…" The poor Death Eater stammered as his profuse sweating dripped off the end of his hooked nose and splattered on the marble floors._

 _"Do you think me a patient wizard?" Voldemort's lips twitched in annoyance, yet he refrained from killing the man, just barely. "Collect yourself. Take a deep breath. Imagine your life flashing before your eyes. Imagine what I will do to you if you fail me. Imagine your blood splashed upon these walls, and then speak quickly and efficiently."_

 _"The cell in the dungeons is empty. Bellatrix Lestrange has left the Manor. There are whisperings she's gone to retrieve your…snake." The pale Death Eater seemed smaller as he folded in on himself._

 _His pitch black eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He did not wish to witness the wrath of his master. He was vaguely aware of the sound of gnashing teeth and furniture being upended. He held his breath and prayed to the gods he would live to see another day._

 _Sadly, the gods did not bestow their blessings upon him that day. Instead, Lord Voldemort was true to his word. With a great yowl of rage, the Dark Lord cast hex after hex until there was little left resembling a man. He wiped his borrowed face with disgust and watched the blood drip from the ceiling in silent fascination._

* * *

 _The Burrow was silent as Harry stepped through the back door. He still hadn't gone used to the lack of shouts and laughter since Molly's passing. The floors still creaked in the same places. The clock was still hung over the mantle with all the arrows pointing at 'moral peril', except of course for the deceased Weasleys. Harry gulped noisily and the twinge in his heart ached horribly as he noted Molly and Percy's golden hands pointed to 'lost'._

 _The days of the scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the magically constructed Burrow were long gone. In its place, were layers of dust accumulating on Molly's eclectic collection of glassware. The garden gnomes ran rampant and even had the audacity to sneer as they raced passed the kitchen window._

 _Harry steps were exceedingly light, almost as if he didn't wish to disrupt a solitary molecule as he ventured forward. He didn't call out or do anything to make his presence known. Ever so slowly, he climbed the steps. It was instinct to stride into Percy's bedchamber, and he wasn't the least bit surprised to discover Arthur sitting on the edge of the narrow twin bed._

 _"I know why you're here, Harry," Arthur continued to stare at the hardwood with slumped shoulders and a runny nose. "Ron's already sent an owl. There's to be a meeting of the Order."_

 _"I'm sorry, really I am." Harry approached nervously as he cleared his throat. "I've been…grieved over this entire situation really, and I didn't know what to do."_

 _"Your job, that's what you do. Always do your job. It's War Harry, no one comes away unscathed. Ron has always been impetuous. I always…I always thought it was endearing, but it's dangerous in times such as these. I-I'm glad he's got Poppy. Strangely enough, she gives him strength and Merlin knows he needs it right now." Arthur heaved his thinning figure to his feet and awkwardly patted Harry's shoulder._

 _"I've got…the memory if you'd…if you'd like to see it." Harry lamely shrugged and he watched Arthur struggle with the new tidbit of information._

 _"Yes, yes I suppose that would be best. Perhaps, we'll have a bit of tea in our firewhiskey first, though, yes?" Arthur's watery eyes finally met Harry's as he tremulously attempted to smile through the haze of tears._

 _Later, amidst laughter and tears, Harry and Arthur ventured into the Pensieve. It had been delivered while Harry and Arthur were conversing and it was easy to assume Narcissa had set it on the Weasley family's table for their use._

 _It was a difficult journey for Arthur, but Harry looked at the scene with new eyes. Ron had been impulsive, reckless even, but he hadn't been malicious. It was a small silver lining, yet it was better than none at all._

 _"Are you alright there, Arthur?" Harry waited patiently for the eldest Weasley to react to the memory, but he finally broke the silence with tender words._

 _"As good as can be expected, though, I must make one request. Let's keep it between us. I'd rather not be forced into justifying my rage." Arthur lifted his nearly empty mug of firewhiskey with a pensive stare._

 _"Anything, anything at all." Harry winced as he realised he probably shouldn't have spoken so hastily, but it was too late now._

 _"I get the pleasure of killing Bellatrix Lestrange." Arthur leant back on the lumpy settee with a satisfied smile, and there was nothing more to say._

* * *

 _It was extraordinarily difficult for Blaise Zabini to traverse the rough terrain of the tunnels with the heavy burden laden in his arms. He struggled with every step even as the sweat dripped down his cheeks and soaked the back of his shirt. He stumbled more than once, and yet he continued to press on._

 _The bundle in his arms whimpered and he winced at the sound. It was better than the ear-splitting wailing he had been subjected to for days on end, yet he only wished for silence. It was proving difficult to come to terms with his own guilt and mourning without listening to someone else's sobs of despair._

 _The ironclad grip around his throat was taxing, yet Blaise never uttered a word of complaint. There was nothing to be said. There was nothing to be done. It felt as though the world had fallen from beneath them and they were free falling through a vortex of nothingness._

* * *

 _Bellatrix Lestrange could barely contain the maniacal giggling that bubbled in her throat. Her black tresses billowed behind her in fantastic curled disarray. She clutched her wand in a practised hand as she crept along the edges of Little Hangleton._

 _The small village was eerily quiet in the dead of night, which suited Bellatrix just fine. She did wish her companions were capable of being light of foot, however, beggars could not afford to be choosers. She grit her teeth to keep from shouting at them and shivered in delight._

 _Bellatrix could see it there, in the distance and drew her tatty cloak closer to her trembling body. She pointed with her wand and Amycus grunted. She wasn't fond of the wizard, but at least she had convinced him to leave his sister behind. Bellatrix was fairly certain the two were engaged in some sort of taboo relationship, but she didn't like to dwell on the thought._

 _"There." The elder Goyle huffed and puffed his way up the hill. His tiers of fat protested the strenuous movement of walking and his cheeks were bright red from exertion._

 _The Riddle House stood on a hill that overlooked the village. It was in dire straits, but the details were completely unimportant. It was derelict at best, but the exterior wasn't the point of interest._

 _Bellatrix had heard that once upon a time it was a fine-looking manor, but she was much more interested in the rusted antique key hidden within a broken desk in the foyer. She stroked the cool iron lovingly and shoved it into the pocket of her cloak. It wasn't necessary to dally. Bellatrix had no further need of Riddle House._

 _"I don't see why we've got to go to all this trouble. Can't we simply rendezvous in the graveyard?" Antonin Dolohov grumbled loudly, yet he continued to traipse behind the insane witch._

 _"You know as well as I, The Dark Lord is absolutely meticulous in his protections. It's a riddle of sorts, which is hilarious if you stop to think about it. If we don't follow the steps perfectly, we'll never get the bloody snake out of here and Lord Voldemort won't be terribly pleased with us." Bellatrix spoke slowly and used small words to solidify their comprehension._

 _The quartet soundlessly made their way to the outskirts of Little Hangleton. Goyle the elder shivered when he caught sight of the dilapidated shack and Amycus Carrow didn't fair much better. There was something disturbingly eerie about the place, and they didn't wish to dally._

 _"There she is." Bellatrix squealed with delight and rushed toward the gleaming magical enclosure that housed Nagini. "Come on then, Carrow, Goyle, you levitate her. Dolohov you bring up the rear, I'll remain in front. Move quickly now."_

 _"Is Selwyn still on mission?" Dolohov's raspy voice rung out in the silences and they paused in their steps._

 _"Aye, he's been keeping watch for days. He claimed all was well, which is why we're doing this now. Could you imagine being able to gift The Dark Lord his precious Nagini as well as Harry Potter?" Bellatrix shrugged her shoulders and her eyes were bright with excitement and longing._

 _The Death Eaters didn't reply to her madness. They might have thought it was a fool's errand and perhaps they even believed she was simply fetching the snake to earn the Dark Lord's pleasure, but they would never voice such things. While they weren't a brilliant brunch, they were also in no hurry to walk into their deaths._

 _Carrow and Goyle struggled in their efforts to keep Nagini's enclosure aloft. Their breaths were heavy and their steps faltered. Dolohov growled deep in his chest and resisted the urge to kick Goyle the elder directly in his arse. How that useless tubby wizard had ever earned a place amongst celebrated Death Eaters was anyone's guess._

 _"Halt. There's a figure in the trees."_

 _"It's Selwyn, he's brought me a gift." Bellatrix brushed off Dolohov's warning and hurried toward the tall dark haired wizard. "Oh, you've brought her. How lovely. What is this?"_

 _"A child. I thought it better to bring the bitch with her babe in arms." Selwyn cackled and his rotted yellow teeth shone in the moonlight._

 _"This isn't Potter's bint you fool." Bellatrix pointed her wand at the taller man's throat, yet he remained nonplussed._

 _"As if it matters? The Order will come. I've left them detailed instru…" Selwyn choked, his dark eyes wide with surprise. A healthy spatter of blood fell from his lips just before he pitched forward to the ground._

 _Bellatrix gripped the trembling witch by the arm and dragged her toward her entourage. She preferred the cover of Dolohov if there was to be a fight. She listened for the telltale sounds of Apparition and snarled at the dark-skinned wizard shrouded under the cover of darkness._

 _"They're already here." Bellatrix spat and she stomped her foot angrily against the hard ground._

 _Amycus Carrow and the tubby bastard Goyle were quick to drop Nagini in order to defend themselves. The night sky was filled with flashes of reds and greens while the air was filled with shouts of fury. It truly was a beautiful sight. Later, after the skirmish was said and done, the Muggles would simply blame the hijinks on children causing a bit of mischief._

 _"Got one!" Amycus cackled happily just before he was struck in the chest and fell over dead._

 _Bellatrix barely spared the brown girl a glance as she held the young mother in front of her body as armour. Her keen eyes spotted Goyle grunting much like a hog as he duelled a strange looking girl with a veil covering her face. Her arm slashed through the air as she cast spell after spell, and the Order kept their distance, which suited her just fine._

 _"Go!"_

 _Bellatrix Lestrange shouted over her shoulder as she locked eyes with Antonin Dolohov the moment Goyle fell. She was pleased to note he ended the witch before an Auror ended him, which was a small consolation. This wasn't supposed to happen._

 _"I've come for you Bellatrix." Harry Potter's chest heaved as he stared at the brunette witch with hatred in his shockingly green eyes._

 _"I think I no longer wish to play. I have a lovely hostage and I think I'll take her back with me. She'd make a lovely gift for My Lord." Bellatrix taunted Harry laughingly until Hannah Longbottom's earsplitting shriek distracted her as much as the stomp to her instep and elbow to the ribs did. "Why you little bitch." Her dark eyes were barely more than slivers as she honed in on the retreating witch._

 _Bellatrix Lestrange felt nothing, even as the tiny child squalled in fright. It was inconceivable to be bested by some fucking breeder when she had sat beside Lord Voldemort. She was better than the Order in every way, shape, and form. It was simply time to prove it._

 _The bright flash of green raced from the tip of her wand with minimal effort. She held her breath and tightened her hands into fists as it sped through the air. She was certain it was going to strike the bitch directly in the back, but she was wrong._

 _"NO!"_

 _Neville Longbottom dove for his wife, for his son. He crashed into Hannah's back with his arms spread wide in utter and complete fearlessness. He felt the spell barrel into his chest and a faint smile appeared on his lips. His task was complete. He had done what he had set out to do. He had saved the life of his wife, the life of his newborn son, and he was content, as he felt no more._

 _"Should I add another to my list then? I probably should make a list at this point, don't you think? I mean, I have killed more than my fair share of Order members, now haven't I?" The wide smile on Bellatrix Lestrange's parted lips froze._

 _She hadn't expected her sister to make an appearance. She hadn't expected that one bit. It was sobering to see her youngest sister stand beside a disgusting Weasley in solidarity. Well, it wasn't as if she hadn't dispatched with family members before, what was another one?_

 _"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix stood her ground and frowned heavily as her targets leapt out of the way._

 _She didn't see the flash of red as she was concentrating on her sister. It truly was distraction at its finest. While Bellatrix Lestrange waited for Narcissa Malfoy to stumble to her feet, Arthur Weasley was crouching into a formidable position. He licked his lips and awaited the imperceptible nod from the blonde witch. His arm circled his head as he channelled his hatred and rage. The spell was akin to lightning as it filled the sky with colour._

 _There were no tears spilt as the maniacal right hand of the Dark Lord shattered into an impressive menagerie of colours. There were no shouts of celebration upon the capture of Voldemort's last remaining horcrux. There were sombre embraces as they gathered the fallen Order members._

 _There was a young witch sobbing over the frozen body of her husband as she cuddled her son to her chest. There were exclamations of surprise when young Frank Longbottom's forehead was dabbed with a damp handkerchief and a diagonal slash through his eyebrow became visible._

 _There were silent vows and promises to bring Tom Riddle to his knees, even if it took their last breaths. They would never stop resisting. They would never stop fighting. They were the Order of the Phoenix, and their flame would never die._


	21. 21 - Draco

It was nearly time. I was making myself sick over it. I had spent half the night wedged against the bars of my cell, coordinating with Blaise. My stomach was rolling with waves of anxiety, but it was too late to back out now. Nearly everything was in place.

Thankfully, Granger had spent the past few days catching up on sleep. At least, that's what she kept telling me. We spent most of our time sleeping, or shagging, what was there to catch up on? I didn't understand it, but Zabini said I didn't need to understand it.

"I've one last request." I furtively glanced over my shoulder, but the blurry lump in the feather bed hadn't moved.

"What now? I've done everything you've asked. You're mad!" Zabini was drenched in sweat, and I attributed that to his nerves.

"Look, you're doing me a solid, and I appreciate that but…" I heard her yawn, and her fingers slap into the hardwood of the headboard.

"She's more important. I get it. I'm not even offended." Blaise leant forward and his shoulder grazed the bars, and they immediately burned through his robes. He winced and batted the smoulders before more damage could be done, and I didn't even smirk at his distress.

"I think I love her. I know it's incredibly selfish and stupid as hell, but I can't help it. I can't tell her. She won't leave if she knows. It's that whole Gryffindor courage and whatnot. I can't risk it."

"I don't even really know how you plan on getting her out of the fucking cell. This is madness, you realise this, yeah? We're all going to die." Zabini was a tad on the dramatic side, but he wasn't far from the truth.

"It doesn't matter if I die. Fuck mate, it doesn't matter if you die either. What matters is if she lives, got it? That's the most important thing to me, do you understand?"

I gripped the iron bars and knew Zabini was watching me. I could feel his shock, or was it awe? Regardless, I felt it in the air. I felt many things in the air, it was part of the advantage of being a Malfoy.

"She more important than your mother?" He was goading me, and I wasn't going to take the bait. He wanted me to be willing sacrifice Granger, and I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it.

"Yes. Are you set then? I'm counting the days. I know there's the Revelry, which is just a piss poor excuse to round up as many members of the Order as possible. You'll be expected there. Afterwards, they'll be half in their cups. It's the perfect time to scurry her out without raising suspicion. You've got thirty days to get your shit straight, Zabini."

"How the fuck did you know any of that?" Zabini was panting, and he probably would have rested his forehead against the bars, but he valued his body too much for that. I'd heard the sizzle of skin before, and it wasn't something that needed repeating.

"I listen." I scoffed, noticing Granger was no longer in our bed.

"She's in the loo. I've gotta go, it's nearly daybreak. I can't be caught down here." I waited until I heard Blaise close the door at the top of the stone staircase before I made my way toward the loo.

She never woke this early. Something was wrong. I had become attuned to her, at least I thought I had, but I had missed something.

"I'm alright. I'm alright, it's fine. Don't worry about me." She was splashing tepid water on her face, but she looked rather shaky, at least from what I could discern.

"You're doing a better job convincing yourself than me."

She squealed when I picked her up, and I almost laughed. I wasn't really the laughing sort, but damn her for bringing out the best in me. I was going to be completely fucking gutted when she left.

"Please, don't send me away." She straddled my lap in bed, and ordinarily, I wouldn't argue with her in such a position, but this was different.

This wasn't light banter and teasing. This was serious. She was fucking serious. What sort of idiot would wish to stay incarcerated when freedom was nearly at their fingertips? Oh, I'll tell you, my fucking Gryffindor, that's who.

I tried to ignore her pleading, but she was so good at it. She had had years of practice. I mean, she had managed to mostly keep Potter and that Weasley fucker out of trouble for years.

It wasn't going to work on me, though. I had made up my mind. I would drown myself in her for the next month, and then, I would say goodbye. I wouldn't tell her I loved her. I wouldn't want her to hold onto that for the rest of her days. In a perfect world, she would forget me, but I doubt Hermione Granger had forgotten anything in her entire life.

"Granger…" I was busy paying homage to my favourite expanse of skin between her breasts.

She winced when I brushed the undersides, and I paused. I might not have been able to see her, but I could definitely feel her. I hefted the weight of her breasts, and I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. She held her breath, silent for once, as my hands skimmed down her stomach to rest upon her slightly rounded abdomen.

"I-I…" She covered my hands with her own, which strangely answered an unasked question.

"You're definitely leaving now, Granger."

The air was forced from my lungs with a great whoosh when she slammed into me. She held me so tightly, I could barely draw a new breath. I could feel her hot tears on my throat, and I wished I had the luxury of tears as well.

"Come with me. You could come with me. If you can get me out, surely you could leave as well. You don't have to pay penance anymore, Malfoy. You've done enough. You could come with me. We could be alright. You wouldn't have to be alone anymore. You could…you could see your mother. You could be with me…if you wanted, but even if you don't…" She was babbling, which was a terrible habit, but I found it sort of endearing.

"Hush. I'll consider it." I was lying, but she didn't know that. I was a fantastic liar, came from years of living with my father.

"Even if you don't love me, that's alright. Y-you could, you could be a father. Maybe you could be happy. You don't have to stay here. The Order won't toss you out, not if they know what you've done. Please, Malfoy."

She was breaking my fucking heart. I didn't even know I really had one until her. I didn't like seeing her so bloody broken. She was stronger than this. She would survive; she could survive. She didn't need me. She didn't need anyone.

"I should have sent you on your way last year. I was being selfish, and look where it landed you. Fuck."

I was still reeling. Hermione Granger was going to have a child. She was going to have _my_ child. I wasn't going to be able to see it. I wouldn't see my child grow, or even be born. It was a pretty shitty thought actually.

"Don't. Don't do that. You could have left whenever you wished. You think I didn't research the protections? You think I don't know what your father did for you? You think your mother didn't tell me all about the tunnels? I love you. I don't care if you don't love me, that part doesn't matter. You matter. You matter to me. You matter to your mother. We need you to live, Malfoy."

The tunnels! Sweet Merlin, I didn't have to wait for the stupid Revelry. I didn't have to wait for Blaise either. I could get her out myself.

"You drive a hard bargain, love. Listen, we'll discuss this later. Apparently, my accidental girl is having my child. It's a lot to take in." I tried to make light of the matter, but it fell flat. It really was quite a lot to take in, but she was determined to badger me.

"Accidental girl?" She drew away from me slightly, and I didn't much like it. "Well, I suppose you've called me worse. We could do this, Malfoy. We could…we could raise this baby and we could be good parents and…"

"What kind of life would we have, could we have, with Voldemort still about? Come on, you're being irrational." I held her face in my hands and wished I could see those brown eyes I remembered. "Look, I understand your plight, our plight. I care about you, you know I do. You also know I can't allow that monster to take over the world, not if I can do something about it."

"But why, why did you wait so long?" I tucked her into my side and wished she'd stop crying. It was hurting my heart.

"I never had anything worth fighting for until you."

She didn't have anything to say to that. It was a small reprieve, but she stopped crying. We clung to each other that night and the next. I was stalling. I had grown used to the idea of thirty measly more days, and I couldn't have them. I wanted them, but I wanted many things that would never come to fruition.

"Can we…just pretend…we're not here?" Granger didn't ask me often, but there were occasions when it did happen.

I never thought her the sort to wish to play pretend, but this place does things to a person. You've got to escape, otherwise, you'd go mad. There were moments, I was absolutely certain I was mad, but Granger brought me back to…hell on earth.

"If we weren't here…and you didn't detest me on sight. I'd take you to dinner. Nothing exceedingly posh, as I know you're not a fan of indulgently rich fare. Perhaps we'd share a bottle of wine, and some sort of chocolate concoction. Afterwards, I'd walk you home and definitely steal a kiss." I attempted to peck her nose, but I missed, landing just beside instead.

"Just a kiss Malfoy?" I loved it when she was in a playful mood. Gods, she was the sunshine on a stormy day.

"Oh, I'd definitely feel you up."

It wasn't a hurried affair, as it had been before. I no longer feared discovery. I made love to her. It was overly slow. She voiced her complaints in the form of whimpers and groans. It was sensual as well. I studied every curve as my fingers walked across her body. My lips were quick to follow, and I memorised her.

It was selfish of me, I knew this, but I needed something to cling to after she was gone. I needed something to make me walk into the fire. I needed to be filled with light amidst the darkness, and she was my light. If I had ever had the opportunity to cast the Patronus, it would be due to memories of her.

"What are you doing to me?" Granger's back was a perfect arch, and her breasts were thrust into my face.

I definitely wasn't complaining. They were larger, heavier than they had been, and I felt a fool for not realising sooner. The slight rounding of her abdomen brushed against my cheek, and I paused.

I vaguely wondered how long I had been blinded by the changes in her, and my palms couldn't help but to hold the small space. I littered the space with the smallest of kisses, suddenly overcome. My child was growing within the woman I had once despised, and yet now, she meant more than my life.

"I'm making you love me." I was a bastard, such a bastard.

I knew the truth of the matter. Apparently, my selfishness knows no bounds. My mother had always told me one day I would find a witch and my entire life would change. I hadn't believed her. I should have.

We shuddered, in unison no less, when I entered her. I moved achingly slow, my hands, my lips never stopped moving, and she was much the same. I was saying goodbye, and I truly believe, in that moment, she knew that.

Granger's hands continuously stroked over my cheeks, and I could feel her staring at me. I would have done anything to be able to see her. My visions of Hermione Granger were limited to childhood memories of ridiculously large teeth, frizzy hair, and oversized robes. I'm positive those images did her absolutely no justice.

"I-I think I did before I ever came here. Your mother paints beautiful pictures with words." Granger's voice was breathy, yet restrained, and I felt a shiver as her breath touched against my chest.

"Hermione," I toyed with her name on my tongue, caressing it even, while my fingers dug into the supple flesh of her arse. "Let's not discuss my mother now."

I tried to make light of things, but I was faltering. This was the last moment I would feel her naked body beneath mine. It was the last moment I would revel in the sensation of her breasts against my chest. Hermione Granger was the first and last woman I would ever make love too, and that was enough to make any bloke cry.

"Are you alright?" I hummed against her throat as I spilt into her, grunting a fair bit, but she was worried for me. "Y-you're crying, Malfoy."

I rubbed my face on her pillow and felt the dampness on my cheeks. I thought I had lost the capability to express myself in such a brazen manner. I wasn't embarrassed, or anything at all really. No, I take that back. I was thankful.

I didn't answer her, and Granger knew better than to pry. When we slept that night, there wasn't a bit of space between us. I was quite certain it would nearly impossible to discern where she ended and I began. It would have been absolute perfection if it hadn't been goodbye.

I had difficulty vacating our bed in the morning. At least, I think it was morning, I didn't know anymore. It all looked the same anyway. At this point, what did it matter?

I waited for her to rise and sipped some horrid little concoction Goyle claimed was tea. I had a plan. It was a perfect plan, and it was going to work. I simply required Blaise Zabini to implement the last bits.

"Every inch of me is sore." Granger groaned and covered her head with her pillow.

Ordinarily, I'd tease her a bit, force her to eat whatever slop the fucking Death Eater had provided, and we'd bathe. Today, I handed her half a slice of soggy toast and led her to the loo. I kissed her temple and paid special attention to her abdomen. I wanted to soak up all the sentimental moments before they were gone.

"Bathe, you'll feel better. Perhaps I can convince Zabini to bring us better fare. Merlin knows you need it." Her hesitation was nearly palpable, but I offered a quick smile and closed the door just the same.

The moment she sunk into the water with a sigh, I snapped my fingers. I could feel the magic in my veins, and I wasn't averse to using it now. The iron gate clanked as it opened, but not loud enough to alert her. I stepped into the corridor, nervous, as I was playing with fire.

I heard the heavy door creak open, and the heavy steps on the stairs. I knew it was Zabini. He was the only bloke who attempted to be silent as he descended into my prison. He nearly shouted when he spied me waiting for him, but I was quick to cover his mouth, at least it was near his mouth, but he got the hint.

"You will do this. You will not baulk. You will not fail, do you understand me?" I towered over him, realising how much I had grown while locked away from the world, and if he had been a lesser man, Zabini would have cowered.

Instead, he straightened his shoulders and tightened his jaw. I didn't have long. I had convinced Granger to take a bath, and for the first time since our beginning, I didn't join her. She was suspicious, but that was to be expected.

"How…"

"Zabini, this is my family home. My father's ancestral home. Do you truly believe me to be incapable of leaving if I so wished? I remained behind to aid as many witches and wizards as possible. I accepted abuses in order to punish myself. It wasn't enough. It will never be enough. How do you think Abbott escaped? Did you honestly believe Nott's abilities surpassed mine? I opened the bloody cell and he took care of the rest. He was punished soundly, and his error secured his current position." I shrugged, no longer concerned with Theo's lies.

"H-he said he was Imperiused." Blaise huffed, groaning as he realised his stupidity.

"And now he is. Regardless, it's time. We can't wait any longer. The plan has changed and you will do this for me, or I will fucking end you where you stand." I grasped his hand, and he flinched with fear.

"Now? Are you mad? We can't do it now. I can't get her to the perimeter when…" He was stuttering, and damn near losing his mind. I almost slapped him.

"The tunnels." I rolled my eyes and offered the answer with a slight smirk.

"Wait, the tunnels? She's not…I'm not…it's…" Blaise stuttered nervously, and I understood, but I didn't have time to coddle him.

"Would you shut up? We haven't the time. She can. She's not a Malfoy, but she's," I took a shaky breath, the force of reality striking me, and striking me hard. "She's carrying the Malfoy heir. As for you, that can be quickly rectified."

"Fuck, Malfoy. He'll kill her." I could hear Zabini swallow hard, and I followed suit. He wasn't wrong. It was exactly the sort of leverage Voldemort would use to his advantage, and it would work.

I concentrated hard and centred my magic. I swiped across Zabini's palm, and then my own. He attempted to retract his hand, but I held fast. This wasn't a time for cowards.

"Yours. Mine. Ours. Blood of my blood. Blood of your blood. The fatherless man now has family. The brotherless man is no more. In hours of danger, and even in death, this bond shall ensure life." I knew he could feel the warmth of the magicks, just as I could, and while it was exhausting, I knew it had worked when I pulled Zabini into the cell.

He yelped, expecting the horrid sounds of burning flesh, but they did not come. I breathed a bit easier inside my small space. It had been my home for seven years, or there abouts. I hadn't properly catalogued every day, but it was near enough.

I had spent the first two years in utter and complete darkness. I had wallowed in self-pity without lifting even an eyebrow at the abuses occurring around me. Voldemort had attempted to hex me, for his own pleasure, sometime during the third year. It was then the first vestiges of light had made their way through my eyelids. I didn't reveal such things, but he must have known.

He had reeled away from me as if I had touched him with love or some such nonsense. Nott had informed me, Voldemort looked even more ghostly after his visit with me. It was then that I began toying with my family magicks.

It had taken another two years to discover I could leave my cell. My first thought was to bolt for freedom, but I couldn't. There were too many prisoners, and I couldn't allow them to take my punishments. It was only then that I truly began my atonement.

When Hannah Abbott had come, she was so scared. I knew she wouldn't last long in the clutches of Death Eaters. I struck a bargain with Nott, and well, you know the rest. It was Granger who had really changed me.

She filled bits and pieces and spaces, I wasn't even aware they needed to be filled. She healed parts of me I didn't even know existed. She had wiggled her way into my heart. A heart, I was positive was made of stone or even ice.

I had always known I loved my mother. In fact, I was fiercely protective of her, but with Granger, it was different. I would lay down my life for her, and I'd never felt that for anyone. I would walk into the fire and present my life as forfeit, without regrets to ensure she and…and my child, survived.

Fuck, my child. If that wasn't a blow, I don't know what is. I had never considered the idea, honestly. How could I when I was locked away from the world, not to mention, completely blind? Even if the war had ended, I didn't envision a future with a wife and children.

I still couldn't. I didn't. Of course, the difference now was, I wanted it, which was debilitating. I knew I couldn't have it. However, she could. She could have a child, my child…and my mother would aid her. My mother wouldn't leave Granger to her own devices, even I knew that much.

It helped push me forward. My mother, Granger, my child, they'd be alright in the end. They'd live, and fuck, that was more important than anything. I could do this. I could face death, and I wondered if this was how Potter felt when he faced Voldemort.

I didn't mind having something in common with him, not anymore. Perhaps he'd keep an eye on Granger as well, especially if she tells him what I've done. I want her to have a good life. I want her to marry, but if she marries that Weasel, I'm going to fucking haunt her. I have limits.

"Malfoy? What's…why is he…what are you doing?" Granger was shaky at best, and her fear made me want to drag her back to bed and hold her until the end of time.

"Zabini." He understood what I needed, what I wanted.

He strode forward, caught her by the waist, and lifted her quite easily from the floor. He was careful at least. I dug my fingernails into my palms until I could feel the pinpricks of blood. It helped me focus. It helped me let her go.

"No, no, not yet. I'm not ready. Y-you said you'd think about it." She was struggling, but Zabini held her, just as I needed.

"Take her." For the first time in seven years, I was thankful I was blind.

I was incapable of seeing the betrayal in those golden brown eyes. I was incapable of seeing the hurt etched upon her face. I was incapable of seeing her face crumple, but I wished I were deaf as well.

Her wail was not something I ever wish to experience again. One would have thought her heart was wrenched from her body, and dangling before her face. It was the worst sound in the entire world, and it fucking killed me.

I blocked Zabini's way, just before he crossed the threshold. He hadn't loosened his hold, which was what I needed. I needed him to hold her, otherwise, I would change my mind, and that couldn't happen.

Granger was a bit of a hellion. I wasn't expecting that. I don't imagine Zabini appreciated it in the least. She reached for me, her fingers barely glancing off my forearm.

I touched her cheek, stroked it even with the side of my thumb, and it calmed her some. I kissed her forehead and indulged myself for a moment. I took in the scent of soap, and the softness of her hair. I needed a memory to cling too.

"Malfoy, Draco. Draco, listen to me." Her breath was a whisper against my lips. She'd never once used my given name. It was quite manipulative of her to wait until our goodbyes.

"Can't. It's time." I kissed her, tenderly. I wanted to remember this moment with fondness.

"What do you expect me to do now?!" Her voice squeaked as her hysteria rose, and I couldn't wait any longer.

I nodded to Zabini, and he sidestepped me, as I was unable to move. I couldn't force my feet to walk away from her. Her fingers skimmed mine until we could no longer touch. I counted Zabini's footsteps until I knew they were near the hidden exit near the end of the corridor and I closed the cell.

"Live, Granger. I expect you to live."

The little minx broke free of Zabini, I suspect with a well placed kicked. I heard him grunt, and then her feet were slapping against the stone floor. She reached through the bars, seeking purchase, and I faltered.

I allowed her to drag me forward until only the bars were wedged between us. I awkwardly wiped the tears from her eyes and attempted to shush her. I wanted Zabini to hurry as much as I wished he wouldn't.

"Tell me." She shook me by the shoulders, sounding a bit crazed, but I remained silent.

"Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed? Dammit Granger, let's go!" Zabini hobbled up behind him, but she refused to let me go.

"Tell me, Malfoy. Tell me!"

I knew what she was asking, but I couldn't. I didn't want her desperately clinging to what we had. I kissed her, despite the tears and the bogies, none of that mattered, but I remained silent. If I began to speak, Granger would have wound up back in my cell, back in my bed, and that was certain death.

"Zabini." I struggled to say that one word, but it was enough.

"TELL ME!" Granger shrieked as I pried her fingers off my shirt, and thrust her arms back through the bars.

Zabini cradled her in his arms, and I prayed to the gods he didn't release her this go round. He walked slowly, almost as though he was giving me the opportunity to speak, perhaps he was. I didn't take it, I didn't trust myself.

"TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!"

I closed my eyes as the heavy door swung shut, her heart-wrenching sob echoed in the darkness, in the silence. It was an apt ending. It succinctly closed the chapter of my life I'd entitled, 'when I loved Hermione Granger'.


	22. 22 - Harry

I just stood there. I just fucking stood there. I should be dead, but I'm not. I froze. I completely froze. I had a plan, it was a good plan, but then that bitch mentioned Hermione, and I was lost.

I was so angry, I could barely see her beyond the haze of my fury. I wanted to kill her, I did. I just didn't want to become her, if you can make sense of that. It was a line I didn't want to cross, and I knew I would have to one day.

There wasn't a point in rehashing my errors. It didn't matter. Bellatrix Lestrange was dead, and I had difficulty wrapping my head around it. I had never seen Arthur in such a state. I didn't know he could be that brutal, and it scared me as much as it impressed me.

"What are the losses?" Kingsley Shacklebolt was a defeated man and it showed in the lines of his face as he sipped tepid tea from a chipped mug.

"In total or just from the skirmish in Little Hangleton?" My bleary eyes were rebelling against remaining open, and I was tired of fighting them, of fighting everything.

"Antonin Dolohov escaped, such a pity." Narcissa looked fresh as ever.

She seemed less stuffy since relocating to the Burrow. She smiled more, and she ruffled my hair. I would have objected, but in all honesty, it felt quite nice. It reminded me of something a mother would do, and it comforted me.

"Yeah but Amycus Carrow didn't. Shame Alecto wasn't there as well." Ron stumbled into the kitchen with a cheek full of biscuit and a half smile.

"Parvati Patil was hit by Amycus. Padma's a bit of a mess. Goyle Senior hit Marietta Edgecombe…"

"No great loss there…" Ron mumbled with such blatant animosity, it probably would have been amusing under other circumstances.

The tensions were high. The confusion was strong, and the helpless was damn near consuming. I didn't have a plan. I didn't have much of anything except this overwhelming sense of loss. I loved Hermione, not in a sordid sort of way either. We came from the same world. We understood the Muggle nuances and Magic still amazed us even after all these years. It's a bonding experience that sadly few could understand.

"We have Nagini." Narcissa's blue eyes sparkled with terrifying delight upon her statement, and I could only stare at her.

I kept waiting for some sort of laughter, or perhaps even a motivational monologue. She was known for those really. Whenever I was at my lowest point, she'd say something and I'd believe her and she's smile. I had learned to hate that smile. It was a smile that said 'you see Mr Potter what a little motivation can do to bolster one's hope', but this time the smile didn't come.

"How?" My cracked lips ached as they parted to speak, but I had to know.

The small beacon of hope that had lain dormant hummed with delight. The snake was one of the last crucial pieces to ending all of this. I knew it. We all knew it. Of course, it had taken Hermione to locate Nagini, but even so, it was there, within their grasp.

"I transported her. I do wonder if the snake is female, does it matter? Regardless, while Arthur was dispensing of my sister, it afforded me ample opportunity. We need Nagini. She's the last remaining Horcrux and without her, our fight is for nought." Narcissa sunk into Arthur's embrace and their actions made me miss Ginny.

"Why…why didn't you kill her?" I might have sounded bitter, but I wasn't. I was utterly and completely amazed once again by Narcissa Malfoy.

"And rob you of the pleasure? Surely not, Mr Potter." She stroked Arthur's chest almost lovingly and Kingsley's thick lips gaped open. "Nagini is in the garden shed at the Burrow."

"I was going…I mean, I always thought it should be Neville," I choked on his name and felt the prickle of tension stab my shoulder blades.

Neville Longbottom had done exactly what my mother had done. He was in this just as much as I was. He had lost his parents, except they weren't dead. They were forever lost in a world of madness, caused by the very people that killed him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair. He had a wife. He had a child. He found love in the darkest of times, and he was his own fucking light. He didn't deserve…

"No one does, Harry." I must have been muttering aloud, but I was comforted to hear Ginny.

"I want to see her." I felt stronger with Ginny at my side. She gave me strength, but it was more than that. She was everything to me, and I hated that it had taken me so long to accept her, us, everything.

"I'll go with." Ron finally managed to stop shoving food into his stupid face, but I didn't care.

"No. I don't want you there. Wouldn't want you to accidentally kill her or anything." I was being cruel, and the hissed breaths alerted me to such, but fuck them all.

"Harry…" Arthur wasn't nearly as broken, and I appreciated that. He'd gotten a bit of closure from killing Bellatrix, and I could only hope I'd feel the same when I finally faced Tom.

"I know. I saw the memory. I get it, but I don't have to like it. I'm sick and tired of pretending I'm okay when I'm not. I'm tired of the excuses. I'm tired of brushing aside the horrible things we've all done in the name of the greater good. I want to be done with it, and I know you all do as well, but it's not the same." I slammed my fists onto the table and I didn't feel guilty when teacups splattered tea onto the floor. "You weren't there. You didn't meet with Zabini like we did. It might have been accidental, but it was unconscionable, and I don't want to speak to him right now. I'd really fucking like it if you could respect my wishes."

"Harry, you don't mean it." Ron's brows furrowed and his father tried to grasp his arm, but Ron shook it off.

"I do actually, yeah. You don't fucking think, Ron! You get angry and make rash decisions and we're all just supposed to smile and forgive you. Why? Why should I? I forgave you when you were an arse during the Triwizard, which is so inconsequential now it's laughable. I forgave you when you deserted Hermione and me in the forest because of your ego. I forgave you when you kept pushing Hermione beyond her limits because I was stupid too. I really thought you'd work it all out and everything would be wonderful, but she didn't love you." My chest was heaving and it was difficult to breathe, but I couldn't stop now.

"That's all in the past, Harry." Ron held his hands out in that dopey way he always attempted to apologise, but it only made me angrier.

"I tried. I really fucking tried to forgive you for this, but you knew. You knew Nott was Imperiused. You knew he just wanted to be fucking free, because how could he not? I understand being scared because after all he was running and Merlin forbid someone does that on the battlefield. You could have stunned him, but you didn't. The only good thing Bellatrix Lestrange ever taught me was that you have to mean it when you cast Unforgivables. You meant it, and I can't forgive that."

It took the twins to drag Ron away. His face was red and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before he was spouting mean and hateful words. He always said he didn't mean them, but I don't think that was the least bit true. Ron did mean them, he just didn't want to admit it.

Fred and George cast a Silencing Charm on Ron, but we could all hear the scuffle going on in the corridor as they dragged him to the Floo. I didn't know where they were taking him, and I didn't care. I only hoped it wasn't to the Burrow. I had a snake to see.

* * *

I walked around Nagini's encasement with a critical eye. I didn't dare touch it as I could feel the magic humming in the air. This was going to be a process, but it was a step in the right direction. We had her, now it was just a matter of killing her.

"Has anyone attempted to break the enchantments?" I rubbed my forehead and winced as my scar tingled painfully.

"It will be a process, but Hermione's got some interesting theories." Ginny's tone was riddled with tension that I didn't understand. "She assumed there would be certain protections, but her mind works in such a complicated manner, I gave up trying to understand her logic. I uhm, gave the book to someone…"

She was angry, which seemed silly to me. She was simply trying to help, therefore giving Hermione's book to someone who was capable of translating made sense to me. I couldn't recall a witch or wizard capable of comprehending pure Hermione except…shit.

"Th-that's good then. Perhaps we'll have answers sooner rather than later." I was scrambling to keep my head and resist the urge to explain.

"She said something about visiting Grimmauld Place later…" Ginny let the statement hang in the air, and I was certain my eyes were bloody saucers.

I'm not perfect. I never pretended I was or anything, but I suppose Ginny always thought sort of differently. Hermione and Ginny had grown close but it had taken time. She always believed Ginny held me on this pedestal and said one day her rose coloured glasses would crack. I laughed it off, but it seemed that day was upon us.

"Gin…" I moved toward her, but she evaded me. I was just thankful she hadn't drawn her wand.

"Did you love her?"

Fuck. That was a really good question. I didn't want to have this discussion, and I definitely didn't want to have it with Ginny. I didn't have time to suss out my feelings, we were in the midst of a War for fuck's sake. Why couldn't Ginny just be pleased with the fact that I chose her? Why wasn't that good enough?

"Ginny, I chose you."

"You're evading the question, Harry Potter." Ginny's smile was so damn sad, it hurt.

"I-I don't know alright? Is that what you want to hear? You were off doing Ginny things and…and…we just sort of…it wasn't serious. It wasn't supposed to be anything more than…fuck Ginny!" I knew I was making a mess of things. I knew I wasn't even making a bit of sense, and that just made everything worse.

"Is that why she went away? I mean, we were friends and then she was just gone. I always wondered why she decided to stay with Bill and Fleur. They're coming back now, so it only makes sense that she will as well." Ginny pressed herself against the filthy wall and she just sort of looked at me.

I felt as though she could see through me. She stared hard and the only thing I could do was hold my breath. I couldn't tell her the truth of the matter. Don't get me wrong, I love Ginny, but I could never tell her I loved her more than anything else. She wasn't the first witch to ensnare my heart no matter how much I tried to tell myself differently.

"Gin, we don't have to do this now." I moved toward her but she held up her hand and shook her head, which caused me to pause.

"Now is all we have, Harry." She twisted my ring on her finger and I held my breath. "You know I was always so hopeful that you would notice me. I mean, I've been in love with you since I was a child. It was ridiculous and I knew it then just as much as I know it now. How often do little girls get to marry the man of their dreams? That's the sort of thing for storybooks, but I was hopeful." Ginny sneered at Nagini and finally, finally she was in front of me.

"I did notice you. I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if…" Ginny's fingertip pressed against my lips and I swallowed my words.

"I know you love me now, Harry. I just think perhaps it isn't enough anymore. Maybe we're a bit like Ron and Hermione. Ron was so certain they were destined to be together and don't get me wrong, Hermione loves Ron, but it wasn't enough. She doesn't love him the way he wants to be loved, and I think you feel the same about me. I think perhaps I was second choice, or even third choice really." She laughed, but it wasn't funny.

My skin was hot and tingling and I knew what was coming. My heart was thudding heavily and I watched her twist the ring off her finger and hold it in the palm of her hand. I pretended I didn't hear her strangled breath and waited. She had more to say and I knew her.

"I thought if I didn't wait for you, I could prove that wasn't just your best mate's little sister. I watched you chase after Cho and after that disaster, who could blame you for focusing on Voldemort? I suspected there was something between you and…her, but I didn't want to believe it just the way you didn't want to believe she meant something to you." She was a hair's breadth from me, but I couldn't force myself to touch her.

"It wasn't like that." I didn't even believe me and then she shoved me.

"You're a liar, Harry Potter. You haven't seen her in years and your eyes lit up like bloody Christmas. I haven't said her name and you know exactly whom I'm talking about." Ginny's dark red hair whipped across her cheeks as her head spun toward me and I hated the tears in her eyes.

I had loved Ginny. I remembered the nervousness I felt when she was near, but the War had changed us. It had changed everything between us and I was desperately holding onto what was. I didn't fall out of love with her, I just segued into something else with someone else when we were apart. I wasn't supposed to…love her, and I pretended I didn't. It was easier that way because she had left me.

"She left." I shrugged and kicked at the ground. It was easier than seeing the hurt in her eyes.

"You left me, but here I am! I didn't go off and get involved with someone else! I didn't fall in love with someone else! I didn't have a fucking child with someone else!" Ginny gasped and covered her mouth with both hands as she backed away from me.

"What? I couldn't have heard you properly. What did you say?" The bloody shed was stifling hot and it wasn't due to the outside temperatures.

"I didn't know. I swear I didn't. I only just…I only just found out. She was…she was speaking with Mum and I overheard. She didn't tell anyone who the father was, so don't think everyone was keeping secrets from you because they weren't, Harry. They weren't." Ginny's lips were moving, but I was incapable of hearing any more of her words.

"I haven't seen her in fucking years, Ginny."

"I know. I know." Ginny wiped her cheeks with the bottom of her tatty black top and then she grasped my forearms. "I always thought it was strange how quickly we got back together after being apart for so long. I wanted to believe it was because you missed me so much and loved me and couldn't live without me, but I saw him, Harry. He's beautiful and he's yours and you love her. You shouldn't feel ashamed of how you feel, Harry. I'm not an obligation. You'll always be family. I love you, but I'm not what you need." Her arms were tight around me and they were familiar.

Perhaps that was part of the problem. She was too familiar and I didn't feel the same way at twenty-five that I did at seventeen. I held onto her because I didn't know how to let go of the people I loved and I was afraid of losing the small family I had collected over the years. I would have married her and we would have been happy enough I suppose, but when I closed my eyes and pictured true happiness, it wasn't Ginny's eyes I saw looking back at me.

"That's not true…" I didn't want to hurt her that was never my intention.

"It's alright, Harry. You've never needed me as much as you needed Ron and Hermione. I used to attempt to compete, but I was young and stupid. I'll make it up to you one day, but for now, you need to return to Grimmauld Place." Ginny kissed my cheek and there wasn't a flutter of butterflies in my stomach or any feeling at all.

"How…how old is…" I still couldn't come to terms with what she'd said. I'd need to hear the words from her mouth. I'd need to see him with my own eyes.

"He's three." Ginny's lips turned downward and I wanted to hold her tight but she stepped away from me. "She named him after your father."

I gasped, but she was gone. I stood in the Weasley shed with only Nagini for company and I cried. The ground quickly came up to meet me as I hit it hard with my knees. I managed to keep from crashing my face against Arthur's workbench covered in odds and ends, but only just.

My throat burned with the force of my sobs, and I couldn't recall when I had truly allowed my emotions to thrust their way to the surface. I felt a bit pathetic actually, yet at the same time, it was exceedingly therapeutic. I don't know how long I was there, but by the time my sobs quelled I was exhausted.

I pushed open the rickety shed door and stepped into the waning light with a few furious blinks. I was certain my eyes were red and they ached from rubbing them. I wasn't in a particular hurry to return to Grimmauld Place, but there wasn't much choice in the matter. I couldn't break through the enchantments surrounding the fucking snake by myself.

"There you are. I wondered how long you'd allow those pesky Wrackspurts to ravage your brain. It's lovely to see you, Harry."

I blinked once, twice, three times, but she was still there. Her long dirty blonde hair was tied back with some ridiculous rainbow scrap of cloth, but I didn't care. She was smiling at me. She was smiling at me and I felt as though life had just been breathed back into my lungs, and I was conflicted about it.

Ginny Weasley had just left me. I should have been devastated. I shouldn't have been so fucking happy to see this beautiful smiling witch, but I was. I felt my heart thump happily and I wanted to call it a traitor, but it wasn't. It held true after all this time and it was my brain that had betrayed me. I spent years telling myself it was just a fling and I belonged with Ginny, but I was wrong.

"You're here." I didn't recognise the breathy quality of my voice, but she just smiled.

Her unique patchwork skirt swayed as she approached me and I held completely still. Part of me was still a bit worried it was a dream, and I didn't want it to be a dream. Her pale fingers stroked my cheek, and I was wrecked.

I didn't kiss her, but I did lunge for her. She smelled just the way I remembered with traces of herbaceous greens and lavender. Her hair was just as soft, and she still fit just so in my arms. Her laughter was still reminiscent of bells and I sighed against her throat.

"I'm pleased you missed me, Harry, but we really need to get back." Her voice was still a bit dreamy, but I didn't mind.

"Just give me another moment." I requested as I pulled back to gaze into her cornflower blue eyes.

She smiled and I kissed her then. I held her blush smattered face in my hands and gently pressed my lips to hers. She sighed and her fingers were in my hair, tugging on it. Her lips were just as sweet as I remembered with a vague taste of raspberries. I would have done nearly anything to deepen the kiss, but she pulled away.

"There will be plenty of time for that later, Harry Potter." She looped her arm through mine and dragged me up the slight incline of the Weasley properties. "First, we've got to get you home. I imagine Ginny mentioned James and you'll want an introduction. I suppose it's necessary for us to have a chat, but afterwards, I'll sit on your cock if you like." She laughed and her hair blew in the breeze, and I knew everything would be all right.

"Fuck I missed you, Luna."

* * *

"Harry, you're being unreasonable." Ron was having one of his moments, but I honestly didn't care what he wanted to discuss.

I had Luna and James waiting for me in my bedchamber and I really wanted to get back to them. Of course, things are never serene at Grimmauld Place. I should have known better. Bill and Fleur had commandeered a few of the upper floor bedchambers for themselves and their children, which meant I had more houseguests. Ron was wandering about asking me about Ginny when all I wanted to do was speak with Luna.

"I'm fairly certain you're confused. This is my home, not yours. The Burrow is your home and it's not my fault you don't wish to live with your dad and Cissa." I didn't want to argue with him, but Ron was the sort of bloke that argued rather than being rational about pretty much everything.

"Alright fine, you're right, Harry. It's always been you, Hermione, and me. Now that she's gone, it's been you, Ginny, and me. I'm just supposed to give that up because you decided it wasn't working for you, is that it?" He was angrily pacing and for the first time in a long time, I didn't care what he thought.

"Your sister ended things with me, not that it's any of your business. I've got a son Ron, a son. I'd much rather have an important conversation with my son's mother than sit here arguing with you about nonsense. Go home, Ron!"

"This is about Nott, isn't it? That's why you're punishing me. You don't want me here because I killed a fucking Death Eater. It's War Harry! You can't expect us to walk away unscathed. I admit it was a mistake on my part, but mistakes happen. What the hell do you want me to do about it now?" Ron huffed and crossed his arms.

"I want you to feel the slightest bit of remorse about it. I want you to feel something. I want you to think about someone, anyone that isn't named Ronald Weasley. I want you to stop being an anger-fueled childish git. I also want you to go the fuck home so I can speak with Luna and get to know my son before I have to destroy yet another horcrux so we can end this War! And maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to get Hermione back in one piece!" The shouting wasn't really necessary, but I didn't care.

I knew the twins were hiding away upstairs with a pair of Extendable Ears, and good for them. I wanted everyone to know what had happened. I was tired of the secrets. I was tired of carrying around all this baggage that wasn't mine.

"You're being ridiculous, Harry. Theodore Nott was just another Death Eater, so is Zabini for that matter. I don't know why you're getting so worked up about it." Ron took a healthy draught from a nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey he'd pulled from his back pocket and tapped his foot at me.

"Zabini will probably kill you. You realise this, Ron?" My hands were shaking with rage. I didn't care if it was an accident. I didn't care that he had apologised. I didn't care about any of it.

"Yeah, maybe he'll try, but you won't let him, Harry." Ron gave me that lopsided smile, but those antics didn't work on me.

Ron had always had a temper. He always reacted first and thought never. It was always a source of contention between him and everyone else. He was stubborn as hell but loyal to a fault. The thing that always boggled me was his prejudices. He didn't even see them. Ron was so busy playing the victim, he didn't realise he was the same as them.

I mean, he wasn't looking to murder on sight, but if he could have paused for a moment? If Ron had been capable of seeing beyond his own absolutely blinding hate, the outcome could have been different. It should have been different. I saw Hermione's face when Theo was running toward her, toward them. The happiness, the joy sparkling in her dark eyes nearly set me to my knees.

She was a fucking prisoner in the cellars of Malfoy Manor, trapped with her childhood nemesis, in the midst of the bloodiest War the Wizarding World had ever seen, but she was the epitome of relief in that moment. She knew Theo. She cared about him, which wasn't a surprise, she cared about everyone even if they didn't deserve it.

I watched her mouth fall open in horror and the fat tears roll down her sunken cheeks. I watched her fists pound on the invisible walls of her prison. I watched her fall to her knees and desperately clutch Draco fucking Malfoy, but that wasn't what scared me. It was the way her eyes narrowed and her upper lip twitched into a terrifying replication of Malfoy's sneer. It was the way she murdered Ron with her eyes, and I knew then we would never recover.

"If he comes for you, you're on your own. I'm not dying for you, Ron. Not for you."


	23. 23 - Narcissa

Something was different. I couldn't quite identify what it was, but I felt it. It was an indefinable moment, and I shivered with a touch of uncertainty. I wasn't particularly fond of the feeling lodged in my chest, yet there was nothing I could to make it ebb.

Arthur attempted to comfort me when I dissolved into tears. He couldn't make sense of my ramblings, but then again, neither could I. How could I possibly describe mother's intuition? How could I make him understand there was something wrong with my son? Something had happened to him, and I knew it.

Of course, I couldn't voice such concerns, though strangely enough, Luna Lovegood was a surprising comfort. She touted her toddler son on her hip, and anything with half a mind could see the child was Harry Potter's child. It made me curious, but not curious enough to question her. I was lost in my own thoughts.

"Fleur took me on a wonderfully enlightening tour of the properties surrounding Shell Cottage." Luna slurped her tea and crinkled her nose. "I left Jamie with Bill. I'd never left him before then, and I was quite nervous about it, but there were supposedly creatures in the nearby wood. While I was hunting for fairies, I felt a horrid chill even though the day was quite warm. I was terrified for a moment and nearly convinced myself Dementors had nicked an Invisibility Cloak. It felt as though someone had reached into my chest and attempted to tear out my heart. I left Fleur there and set straight for the Cottage." Luna sighed and stared out the window over the sink basin. I was tempted to shake the girl, yet refrained.

"Was there a point to that delightful anecdote Ms Lovegood?" I didn't snort. I didn't snarl. I didn't smirk. I was losing all the qualities Lucius held in the highest esteem.

"Oh yes, well you see, Jamie had fallen and bumped his head. He's always been a bit on the dramatic side. He was shrieking so loudly he was having difficulty drawing breath and his face was tomato red. Bill claims Jamie calmed the moment I stepped through the wards, and I imagine it's a bit like that for you." Luna set her teacup into the basin and turned to face me.

"Whatever do you mean?" I wasn't especially versed in falsehood, but I was not above trying.

"I'm speaking of Draco, of course. It must be difficult to know he's chosen to remain behind. I imagine it's even more difficult knowing he's in grave danger and you're here, rather than there. It was terribly smart of Lucius to alter the wards. I suppose he did have a redeemable quality after all."

My lips parted and I hadn't a retort. Instead, I watched her brightly colour skirt swirl passed me as she vacated the kitchen at the Burrow, and I cried into my hands. I wanted to give chase, but I could do nothing more than sink into one of the rickety wooden chairs at the well-worn wooden table.

I hadn't altered much if anything. This wasn't my home. This was Molly and Arthur Weasley's home. It was the questionable place they had chosen to raise their incredibly large family. I was an interloper. It wasn't my place to alter the memories the children had created here. I cared for Arthur, but I wondered if it would be enough. If I would be enough.

Lucius loved me in his own way, but I was never felt as though I was enough for him either. It was strange to be lamenting my dead husband while worrying for my son. I was irritating myself and I'm sure I had driven everyone else a bit mad as well. I noted the way they avoided it and sought to change it the best I could.

"Cissum?" Fred or George, one of them crept into the kitchen warily, not that I blamed him.

"Yes, George?" It was in my best interest to pretend. I had always put on a good show, why stop now?

"I'm not George, I'm Fred." There was a hint of sadness in his eyes and I knew I had made a faux pas. If I were forced to guess, I would say it had something to do with his mother.

"I apologise." What else was there to say?

"It's alright, it just reminded me of Mum. Fred and I used to play our fair share of pranks and well…" He shrugged and I did the most motherly thing I could do. I hugged him.

"I suppose after she apologised, you'd tell her you really were George?" I laughed lightly and ruffled his unruly red hair. He truly was in dire need of a cut, but it wasn't my place to suggest such things.

I felt out of place. I probably mentioned that already, but some things deserve to be restated. I missed having a dwelling I could consider home. The Burrow was lovely in its own shabby chic yet quaint way, but it wasn't mine. For the first time in many, many years, I missed the Manor.

I missed my belongings more than anything else, but there wasn't a way to properly convey such things when surrounded by dedicated Order members. They would have assumed I missed the Dark Lord residing in my home and treating my family as though it were vermin, which was far from the case. I missed my antique silver tea service. I missed my favourite plum robes. I missed curling before a fire on my imported chaise, wrapped in cashmere while sipping delicate blends of exotic teas in gold-rimmed teacups. I missed opulence, but with opulence came death. It seemed life was filled with dusty chipped mugs, worn furniture, and threadbare throws. I didn't know how much longer I could hold onto the slim vestiges of my sanity.

"You're nicer than I thought you'd be, but I didn't come in to tell you that. There's been a shift in the wards at Grimmauld Place. It's strange and we don't know the cause. Harry suggested we fetch you. He mentioned something about information from Zabini. I can't be certain."

"Garden of the Blacks," I whispered the words with reverence.

I hadn't known what it meant then. It really was ridiculously irritating the way Harry Potter looked to me for the answers. I was not Hermione Granger. I did not have useless information readily available when the moment necessitated such.

"Cissum? George grasped my arm, and it was only then I realised I was wavering on my stylish yet well-worn heels.

"The tunnels." I closed my eyes and allowed the fountain of hope to burst forth from its coffers. "The Malfoy Family tunnels. Lucius…" I swallowed hard and shook my head.

"Is she alright?" I nearly smiled at the concern in Arthur's soft voice. He was a great source of comfort to me during these trying times and I would remain indebted to him.

"The Black family had tunnels as well, I don't believe I've ever shared that information with anyone. It was an unspoken family secret. When our families were joined, our escape tunnels were as well. Lucius saw fit to secure them with specific wards. They truly are hundreds of miles of harsh terrain, at least in certain areas. I've never traversed them personally. There are niches along the way to provide comfort, rest, and food. At least, that's what I was told. In retrospect, it only goes to reason Blaise Zabini was referring to the tunnels in his cryptic message. If it were up to me, I would prepare the Order members at Grimmauld Place to expect guests." My knees wobbled and it was Arthur who kept me aloft.

"There are tunnels beneath Grimmauld Place?" The other twin stumbled into the kitchen and I felt claustrophobic with some many people hovering over me.

"Only until the garden. They're inaccessible unless you're a Malfoy. The Magical Rights were automatically transferred to Lucius upon my parent's demise and considering Andromeda had been burned off the family tree…" I choked on the words, yet the warm comforting hand stroking my back aided in my ability to keep my thoughts clear.

"What about Bellatrix?" Another Weasley I didn't recognise stepped into the stifling space and I gasped at the horrific scar etched into his otherwise handsome face.

"Her loyalties to the…cause were never called into question. The tunnels were meant for escape you see, and Bellatrix would never leave the side of her Lord. My mother, in her infinite kindness, saw fit to provide my family with a way out if we so wished it. While she was not a warm woman, she regretted her decision to shun Andromeda in her old age." I sniffed and half a dozen handkerchiefs were thrust in my direction.

"Andromeda is lovely." Luna Lovegood's serene smile seemed completely out of place in the midst of such tension, yet it didn't seem to bother the strange girl. "She agreed to afternoon tea at Headquarters. She's bringing Teddy, which will be lovely for Jamie. Are we all going then?"

I patted Arthur's cheek and I could feel my usually harsh demeanour softening as I gazed upon the sweet man. He truly was everything I needed, and I could only hope I was capable of being the same for him. He pecked my cheek with a blush I found endearing and held his hand in my own.

"I do believe it would be best."

I was nervous, ridiculously nervous. I hadn't seen my sister since the day she informed my parents she was marrying that Muggleborn. I didn't know then how I felt about it, and I had grown I simply chose not to dwell upon it. I had my own life, my own family, and they were my life.

I was vaguely aware of the fact my sister's daughter had been killed. I wondered how I would have felt if it had been my Draco, but I never sent her an owl. I never contacted her. I often felt guilty for the relief I felt, knowing my own son was safe and sound. Of course, everything changed, didn't it?

I didn't know what to say to her. How could I apologise for my insensitivity? How could I apologise for abandoning her? How could I apologise for standing on the side of a madman while her family, the ones she held dear, were losing their lives for the Light?

"Cissy," Her voice was the first thing I heard after I had stumbled through the Floo, and I just stood there.

I stared at my older sister in silence. She resembled Bellatrix a great deal, but the kindness in her eyes was what had always set them apart. The crinkles near her eyes were new and they haunted me. She wasn't the boisterous witch she once had been. Her overwhelming light had gone out and I couldn't help but wonder if it was my fault.

"Andromeda," I breathed. I choked on her name and my hands trembled something awful.

"Come now, it isn't the time for tears of regret and shame." Andromeda tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and then she was embracing me.

I didn't deserve her kindness. I didn't deserve anyone's kindness. I had been a wretched witch and had allowed myself to be led away from what was right with the simplest of suggestions. I had fallen prey to my father's teachings and had never once believed it was necessary to disagree. I was despicable.

"I-I'm sorry." It was pitiful, yet those were the only words desperately clawing their way from my throat. I said them so many times in that short span, they jumbled together with my wracking sobs.

"As well you should be, come on then, and tell me all about this mission. You always were a scheming sort, but I never imagined you'd recruit Hermione Granger. I should be quite put out with you and I am, but this is War. I'd much rather see that snivelling piece of shite dead than harbour animosity toward my remaining family." Andromeda pushed me off her chest and inspected my face with a critical eye. "You look ghastly," she laughed.

"That's not very nice." My staunch upbringing had me bristling against her muted insult, but again, she laughed.

"Yes well, I've had to harden a bit in these dire circumstances, and I expect you have as well. From the raucous emanating from the back garden, we haven't the time to reminisce. Afterwards, I promise Cissy. We'll shout, we'll drink, we'll forgive. Now, we've work to do." Andromeda pushed me, she bloody pushed me until we stood in the midst of the Grimmauld Place kitchen.

I was pleased to see the Weasleys were there, though Ginny looked a bit worse for wear which I didn't understand until I spied Luna, Harry and James. It was obvious the boy was Harry's and that would break any woman's heart, but it was the look in Harry's eye that tore her asunder. I was nearly certain he was completely smitten with the only Weasley girl, but seeing him with Luna Lovegood altered my perception of everything.

Ron looked just as clueless as ever, the poor bloke. I had high hopes he would eventually grow up and perhaps it would be Poppy that led the way. She was a pretty girl and her love of Ronald Weasley knew no bounds. I could respect that. I had felt that way once, and it had nearly been the end of me. I could only hope they fared better.

"There's a book…" Harry began and quite lamely, might I add.

"There's always a book, Mr Potter. Pureblood families have recorded their history for a millennium and are quite precise in their documentation." I rolled my eyes and Harry smiled. I didn't like to admit I had picked up the horrid little habit from Hermione Granger, but I had.

I snapped my fingers impatiently and Harry was quick to bring forth a battered tome I hadn't seen in decades upon decades. I sank into the nearest chair and lovingly caressed the Black Insignia on the cover. When I turned to the last pages, I held my breath. My mother's handwriting stared up at me and I chance a quick glance to Andromeda only to see it had affected her as well.

I was tempted to tightly grasp her hand in a show of solidarity, yet I couldn't force my fingers to move. It was too soon. It was too much. We hadn't said the words that needed to be said. We hadn't done anything more than offer salutations and a few snarky words.

Instead, to my surprise, it was Andromeda reaching for me and I was grateful. I was grateful for her. I was moved by her kindness and her compassion, and everything beautiful within her that I had disregarded due to the opinions of my parents. I was a terrible person and I didn't know how to reconcile my past with my present or even my future.

"Drommie, I can't begin to tell you…" I didn't have an eloquent speech planned or any such nonsense, but I couldn't allow things to remain strained between us, not after all these years.

"Now isn't the time, Cissa." Her voice was harsh, and it stung, yet she wasn't wrong.

It was Arthur who gave me strength. Lately, it was always Arthur hovering nearby in my numerous moments of need. In the world before the Dark Lord, he would have been considered weak. Merlin, he was considered weak, when in all honesty, he was one of the strongest men I'd ever known. I was fairly certain I loved him, but this was a most inopportune time to even consider sharing such deep emotions. It would have to wait.

"They're taking an awfully long time to do nothing, Harry." Ron Weasley's stage whisper was quite comical and yes, I laughed.

My small burst of laughter truly broke the tension and for a moment, I forgot about the War. I forgot about Hermione Granger. I forgot about the deaths that had surrounded me, and I even forgot my son.

"Am I…am I interrupting?"

The sombre feeling resettled as quickly as it had abated with the arrival of Hannah Longbottom. The poor girl looked a fright, not that I blamed her. I imagined I looked decidedly worse for wear when Lucius fell. I knew her pain. I understood it better than I wished to, but I didn't have a babe in arms.

"Hannah," The single word was spoken with such reverence, with such anguish, I couldn't bear to look upon her any longer. I watched the Minister for Magic gently lead the witch from the kitchen, and I sighed with relief when she was gone.

"I often did the same after Ted was gone," Andromeda said as she awkwardly patted my shoulder. "It was a relief when they were gone when I didn't have to feel their pain as well as my own. I felt awful about it, but it didn't change much. At least Hannah has a strong support system, she'll pull through. As for us, we've got a job to do. There will plenty of time to wallow in our own misery over numerous tumblers of firewhiskey laced tea later."

I appreciated her candour. In some ways, she reminded me of Bellatrix, but then I realised, it wasn't Bellatrix at all. Andromeda reminded me of our mother. She commanded respect. She had no tolerance for nonsense, and once her mind was set, that was that.

The floorboards beneath our feet gave a healthy shake and I grasped the smooth corners of the dining table. I listened to the empty teacups rattle against their saucers. I listened to the yelps of consternation stemming from the parlour with half an ear. I knew what was happening. I knew what we needed to do and from the dark gaze stemming from my sister, she knew as well.

"This War has been the cause of far too many orphans." I closed my eyes as the unpleasant sounds of young Frank Longbottom made my ears ring.

Andromeda just looked at me. I supposed she was weighing my sincerity versus the prideful, prejudiced, horrid girl she had once known. I wondered what she could see in me, but I was afraid to ask. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"Do you hope he's alive? Is that why you're doing this? Is your desire to…scurry away in the middle of the night with your child safely in tow and leave the rest of us to finish this War?" Her voice was eerily low, yet I swear I could taste the venom.

"Of course I hope he's alive! What sort of mother would I be if I were doing nothing more than wish ill upon my flesh and blood? Even at my darkest moments, I never wished for your husband or your daughter's death. I'm invested in this now. Yes, I was instrumental in sending Hermione Granger into the snake pit, however, she never would have done it without the Minister's approval." I was shouting and it was most unbecoming, but I didn't much care.

"Cissa, I didn't mean…" Andromeda stammered.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to feel superior, as though your suffering meant more than mine. You're a Black through and through, Father would be proud of you." I knew I was being cruel. I wanted her to feel exactly the way she made me feel.

"Ladies! This really isn't the time to have a wand measuring contest!" Charlie Weasley chuckled at his own joke and bloody winked at me. "Fleur is beside herself with all the shouting. How that one ever managed to do complete a single task in the Triwizard is beyond me, but that's not really the point now is it? The point is we need you lot to read the fucking book and fix the garden. I'm really hoping a few Death Eaters emerge. I could use a good fight, but I'm not supposed to voice such things. It bothers dad." Charlie plunked down between us and shoved the book toward us.

"You are absolutely incorrigible." I pursed my lips and glowered, but Charlie was completely nonplussed.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment considering Fred and George are my brothers. As I was saying, we lost my mum. We nearly lost Ginny. We lost Percy and I'm not even going to start naming off all the Order members. You've got issues, well isn't that lovely, don't we all? I've come over for a fight and I've left my dragons. Can't say I'm particularly fond of that, get a move on ladies. Charlie's time is precious." He winked at me and left us to our devices.

The house groaned and I knew we were running out of time. I couldn't claim to know what would happen if the occupants of the tunnels attempted to emerge before we spoke before the entrance, but I imagined it would have been catastrophic. I was terrified, but also ever so hopeful. I wanted to see my son emerge beside Hermione Granger. I wanted it so badly I could taste it, but I was always a realist.

"I think part of me wishes Draco will be on the other side as much as you do. I might not know the boy besides the stories Harry and Ron have shared over the years, but he's a small part of my remaining family. I don't think I could bear to lose anyone else." Andromeda dabbed the corners of her eyes with the sleeve of her terribly drab ecru blouse as though she were a peasant.

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was suddenly stifling. I could hear the sounds of Hannah's babe whimpering. I could hear my sister's grandson and his raucous laughter. I could hear Harry Potter's timid voice as he timidly conversed with his son and it was too much for me.

"Perhaps you should follow her."

I heard Arthur and as much as I wanted to move toward him, I moved away and flung open the back door. I knew I was being followed, but I didn't care. I needed to breathe.

The sodden grass beneath my feet groaned and trembled. The Weasleys murmured amongst themselves, but I couldn't be bothered with their idle chatter. Andromeda sidled into my side and I felt peace. For the first time in an almost innumerable amount of years, I held my sister's hand and laced our fingers together.

We bristled as the ancient tree in the back garden cracked harshly and I knew Arthur wished to remove me from the area, but I held up my hand. He couldn't aid me in this particular task. I could feel the strong magicks in the air, and I imagined Andromeda did as well. She squeezed my clammy hand and I returned the gesture with a shaky sigh.

"Are you ready?" My voice barely broke through the din.

"Are you scared?" Andromeda was always a bit on the saucy side and I expected nothing less.

"Of course, yet such irrationality changes nothing. Do you remember the words?" My sister tossed her head and there were secrets in her eyes, but I didn't mind.

I had missed her more than I was willing to admit. If I pretended she didn't exist, I didn't have to examine the gaping hole in my heart. If I pretended she was dead, I could mourn in the privacy of my sitting room without fear of backlash. If I pretended many things, but the thing is, I don't need to pretend anymore. She's here.

"Per sanguinem nostrum surge*," we whispered amongst the harsh winds and stiff breeze.

We chanted the words over and over and over. I could no longer feel my fingers. We braced ourselves with our legs akimbo as the sheeting rain pelted us in ire. Andromeda was the first to see the fissure in the overgrown grasses. She pointed excitedly and I shared in the emotion.

From the looks of it, there was a hatch of some sort beneath the grasses. It creaked so loudly I nearly covered my ears. I glanced over my shoulder as my hair stuck to my face and held my free hand toward Arthur. I didn't want to do this alone. I didn't have to do this alone. I wasn't alone.

The black hole beneath the hatch widened slowly and steep stone steps appeared. They were marked with the Malfoy insignia and the minute the top step touched the frigid air, the winds ceased. I swear I heard a collective breath as an ominously imposing figure grunted their way to the top.

"It isn't Draco," I knew from the shape of the man, it wasn't my son.

"Do you suppose it could be Bellatrix in disguise?" Andromeda's voice wavered and I wanted to reassure her that our sister was dead and gone, but I didn't.

"Come on now, Dromeda. As if she could feign silence for more than a handful of minutes?" I gave her hand a quick squeeze and she laughed lightly.

"Gods that girl never shut up. I can't help but wonder if she's to blame for Voldemort's questionable sanity."

"I wouldn't be the least bit surprised. She was always a strange girl," I couldn't discern between the raindrops splattering my cheeks and the tears coursing down my cheeks.

"Strange doesn't begin to cover it really," Andromeda was nearly bent in two with the force of her gauche laughter, but I didn't care. The awkward tension between us was washed away with torrential rains and it felt better than it probably should have.

The figure emerged from the dark space beneath the ground and the bundle in his arms slipped. He attempted to catch it, but it seemed there wasn't a need. I was shocked to see the pale shapely legs uncurl and filthy feet sunk into the mud. The wind whipped around them and the thick black hood was ripped from his head.

The small group of Order members surged forward as they were distracted by the whimpering woman. I barely spared her a glance. The Order would take good care of her, as they had done for me. I simply could not tear my eyes off the pained eyes of my son's oldest friend.

"Blaise…" My whimper was lost in a burst of howling wind, yet I heard an angry snarl spill forth from his lips.

"Weasley!" Blaise Zabini roared.

My fingers instinctively dug into my blouse as they nearly clawed my skin. There was something primal in his scream and I was afraid. I wanted to approach him. I wanted to embrace him. I wanted to comfort him and ply him with hot tea and scones until he rewarded me with every detail concerning my son. Instead, I was shoved to the wayside as the large wizard barreled passed me.

"Oh, this isn't going to end well." Fred or George winked at me and I merely shook my head until the sounds of spells being cast and furniture splintering drew our attention.

"Sectumsempra!"

I trembled in the waning rain as the curse was cast. The Weasleys ran toward the back door and slid in the tall grasses and mud. Andromeda gasped and it was only then I turned my attention to the sodden pile of witch curled into the fetal position.

"H-Hermione?"

* * *

* By the blood of our blood, rise.


	24. 24 - Blaise

The only thing that kept me on my feet was her. If I hadn't made a solemn vow and been bound in blood to Draco Malfoy I probably would have given up by now. The gentle drips of filth riddled water cascading down the tunnel walls were the only break in near silence.

She continuously sniffled into my chest, but I didn't blame her. I couldn't. There were moments when she'd segue into groans and even utter and complete sobs. I would have joined her if I had the opportunity. I didn't. I couldn't. I had to get us to our final destination and perhaps then I would be free to express myself.

I was angry. I was heartbroken. I was everything and nothing all at once. I didn't have the words to comfort her, but she didn't expect anything from me. My only purpose was one foot in front of the other to get her home.

I wished I had known how long it would take to traverse the tunnels. I wished I had thought properly ahead and packed some provisions, but it really was spur of the moment. I thought we had time. Malfoy had bloody well told me we had time, and then suddenly, we didn't.

Despite our dismal environment, Malfoy and Granger's last conversation refused to offer a reprieve. With every thump of my black boots along the gravel, I could see Malfoy's face. I could see the pain etched into his sunken cheeks and the tears on his cheeks. I don't think he even knew he was crying, but I knew.

I'd known Draco Malfoy from the time we were children and I'd never known him to be an emotional sort. I'd never known him to care for fiercely for another other than his mother. Everything was different now, and for him to pledge his allegiance to a woman he was born to despise was enough to bring me to my knees.

"I'm hungry."

I felt the need to say something. We had been moving for I don't know how many hours. I was fucking starving, and it was safe to assume Granger was as well. She had to be, not that she would respond to anything I said.

Granger finally lifted her head from my chest and squinted into the low light. I can't pretend I knew how the bloody tunnels worked or why there was light, and I didn't care. She was studying the walls as my steps slowed and she pointed toward a niche I hadn't noticed.

I wondered when she was going to speak, if she was going to speak. I was a bit obsessed, but I was scared. I didn't much like it, but it didn't change the fact I really was fucking scared. I had a general idea as to where we were going and I knew Granger knew more than a little. I suppose I just wanted her to be brave and comfort me, but that was a ridiculous notion and I knew it.

"You knew this would be here, didn't you?" I bounced her a bit, but she only stared at me with those dead eyes of hers.

I didn't particularly like her dead eyes. I was used to seeing her feisty nature, but this…this was something else entirely. I didn't know how to deal with this. I didn't know what to do for her.

She didn't answer me. I wished she would say something, even if she only screamed at me. I wouldn't have minded a good hexing either. I deserved it. I should have done more. I should have tried harder to convince Draco, but he was just as stubborn as his little Gryffindor. I don't know what I would do if he didn't make it, and I suppose Granger felt the same.

I expected her knees to crumple when I set her on her feet, but they didn't. She wavered slightly, but then she shuffled into the niche. It was warmer than the tunnel, and I for one was grateful.

Granger huddled in the corner and I lit the lamp on the wall. The low light flickered in an unseen draft, but it was better than total darkness. I stared at her and I could see the track marks of tears on her cheeks mixed with dirt and it broke my heart a bit.

The rickety table hidden in the corner intrigued me and I sat in the lone chair. If Granger wanted to sit on the floor, that was on her. I was fucking exhausted and I hadn't the slightest idea how much further we had to trek toward freedom.

When I placed my palms onto the splintered wood, a small tray appeared and my stomach grumbled in appreciation. The light steam that escaped the cloche made me thankful for magicks I didn't understand. The piping hot bowl of broth called to me, but I knew she needed it more than I did.

"Granger, you've got to eat."

She shook her head and stubbornly placed her face against the damp stone. She closed her eyes and her fingertips traced the grooves. I wondered if she was thinking of him. I wondered if she ever stopped thinking of him.

"Don't make me force feed you. Malfoy would never forgive me if I let you wither away into nothingness. I know you don't want to. I know you can't bear the thought of doing anything right now, and I don't blame you. Don't do it for me. Don't do it for yourself. Do it for your child, for his child. He would be beside himself with worry if he could see you now."

Her lips parted and I leant forward anxiously. I truly believed she would speak, but only her breaths broke the silence. Her shoulders shook and she buried her face in her crossed arms, which made me feel awful.

I tore a hunk of bread off the rustic loaf and shoved a piece into my mouth. It was warm and fuck warm food was a commodity. She was making me angry and perhaps that's what I needed.

"Dammit, Granger!"

I snatched her off the floor and forced her into my lap. She didn't struggle. She didn't do much of anything really and that made me angry as well.

"Do you think Harry Potter sits around feeling sorry for himself because the War is still raging? Do you think he whines and cries every time someone dies? I don't think he does. I think he keeps moving forward because he knows it's up to him to fucking finish this." She twisted and looked at up me then. I actually had her attention.

"The thing is, Potter can't do it alone anymore. You might be the brightest witch of the age and all that rot, but Draco Malfoy is the smartest man I ever knew. He stayed behind to make sure Potter gets a fair shake at ending the Dark Lord for always. If you allow yourself to waste away into nothing…if you starve yourself to death…you're not just ending yourself, Granger." I forced the spoon between her lips and glowered at her until she swallowed.

"He might not have said it to you, but he loves you. He was willing to sacrifice me, for you. He was willing to sacrifice himself, for you. Malfoy's are not known for their bravery. They're known for their influence, for their riches, for their prideful nature, but never for their bravery. He cast aside millennia of traditions…for you. Don't you make his sacrifices worth nothing in your stubbornness. Your job is to fucking live, so bloody well do it."

I tossed the spoon onto the table and deposited her in the chair. Of course, I took the bread with me. I am not selfless and I was starving. It was easy to recline against the wall on the pile of fresh straw. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of Hermione Granger slurping her soup like a peasant.

I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke I was stiflingly warm. It was absolutely divine. The niche wasn't nearly as damp and cold as it was before and the air was clearer as well. I reached into my inner pocket for my wand, but it wasn't there.

I struggled from beneath the heavy pelts and lumbered to my feet to see Granger finger combing her hair at the entrance. The table was in a different corner. The walls weren't damp. Everything was different and I didn't know if I was still dreaming.

"What the fuck, Granger?" I rubbed my bleary eyes, but the scene didn't change.

"I levitated you." She spoke. Hermione Granger finally spoke.

"Where are we?" I cautiously approached her and she calmly placed my wand in my hand.

"The Tunnels," She shrugged. "I tried to wake you and then I gave up. You slept for nearly fourteen hours and I was bored."

It was a relief to hear her irritating voice. It was a relief to hear the annoyance in her words. It was a relief to feel just a little less alone, and I was grateful. I wasn't looking forward to coming face to face with the Order, but after having lived with the Dark Lord, I was sure I could manage.

Granger gave me a weird sense of hope. She wasn't particularly talkative. She looked a right mess honestly. Her eyes were scarily dead, but at least she had spoken. I wanted her to keep up the litany due to my own selfishness.

I had difficulty focusing on her endless prattle. I didn't really care where we were. I didn't care how far she had walked. I cared that I was no longer alone, but it didn't last. I knew it wouldn't last, but I freely admit I desperately clung to it while it did.

"You should eat."

She kept her back to me and I preferred that to the sight of her lifeless brown eyes. My entire body ached from sleeping in a contorted position, but my stomach grumbled hungrily. I listened to her. I mean, despite our current circumstances, despite our upsets, despite our broken hearts, we're in this together.

"I'll eat as we walk. We need to get the fuck out of here."

Granger reverted to silence and I munched on a hunk of bread that was reminiscent of rocks, but we made our way along the tunnel. It all looked the same. It all felt the same. It was a dark sea of nothingness drawing us into its murky depths and we no longer believed in the sky.

Days segued into weeks and still, we walked. If the magicks of the tunnel hadn't interfered with Apparition, we might have reached freedom sooner. It seemed the magicks interfered with much and I was nearly as broken as Granger.

I suppose she thought I hadn't heard her weeping during our many rests. I suppose she thought I hadn't heard her murmurs as she dragged her ragged fingernails along the stone. I suppose she thought I hadn't seen her thrashing in her sleep.

I held her in those moments. I'm not positive she was aware. She would simply curl into me and stroke my face. Sometimes, she would speak his name and I never corrected her. She needed to pretend even for a little while. I couldn't begrudge her such things.

"It moved," She whispered against my cheek.

Her eyes were squeezed so tightly shut it looked painful. I patted her back awkwardly and she sniffled. She took my hand and placed it on the gentle swell beneath my torn jumper. I had given it to her some time ago for warmth and it did its job well.

I didn't want to feel Malfoy's child. I quite liked to pretend it didn't exist. It was easier that way, at least it was for me. I didn't have any hopes he would make it out alive and knowing that Hermione Granger carried around the last vestiges of my best mate…

Of course, then I felt the slightest flutter beneath my palm and held my breath. I tried to tell myself it was my imagination, but then it happened again. I'm not ashamed to admit I cried. It was a show of weakness, but it was something beautiful when surrounded by horrors.

I hefted her into my arms. I couldn't sit there and reminisce any longer. I needed to move. I needed to get the fuck out of the fucking tunnels. The darkness was consuming me and I wasn't sure I was going to make it and I had promises to keep.

The passage narrowed considerably and I wasn't fond of small spaces. My breaths were ragged and I stumbled so many times I don't know how I didn't drop her. Her arms were a vice grip around my throat and I welcomed the feeling. It was the only proof left that I actually could feel…until I felt the whisper of a fresh breeze cross my face.

"Did you…did you feel that?"

I leant against the wall and it was dry. It was fucking dry. I squinted and I swore I could see a sliver of light. Perhaps I was delusional, I don't know. It's not like Granger answered me or anything. She only burrowed further into my chest and who could blame her.

The ground shifted beneath my feet and I was afraid to move. The creaking, groaning, and rumbling was enough to send even Harry Potter running for the hills, but I held true. Granger whimpered and I stood still. I squeezed her a little harder than I should have, but I had to keep her safe.

I promised him. I promised her life for mine. I promised her life overall. I had fucked up nearly everything, but I couldn't fail him. This…this would be the only good thing I'd ever done in my entire life. I could only hope and pray it would be enough.

"It's…it's raining. Can you hear it, Granger?"

I had lost my mind. It was the only explanation I had. I was certifiable, but then I felt her matted hair move against my throat as she nodded. I expelled the breath I was holding and took three very small steps forward.

"Stairs. I think…I think we've done it."

I was crying, she was crying and it was raining. I would never be dry again. I could hear it, really hear it. The rain I mean. It sounded like quite the storm and I wanted to stand in it. I wanted to raise my face to the sky and thank Merlin, Salazar, Godric, who the fuck ever, for freedom.

My knees were shaking, but I climbed those steps. They were steep and with every movement, Granger grew heavier in my arms. I couldn't see the top. I didn't know if there was one, but it didn't matter, I would climb until I couldn't any longer.

I winced as a crash sounded nearby. I gasped as freezing rain swept across my face. I drew my cloak over Granger. I wasn't going to risk her health, not now. I didn't know what was going to greet us, but for a moment, it didn't matter. We were fucking free.

"It isn't Draco."

Those were the first words I heard as I took the last step. I could only make out bits and pieces of conversation as the thunder crashed over our heads. I struggled to keep my grip on Granger, but she was squirming and then she was gone.

The wind tore the hood of my cloak from my head and Granger's bare feet were covered in thick, pasty mud. I wiped the water from my eyes and stared at Narcissa Malfoy. I swore I could feel the fissures in my heart.

"Blaise," She whimpered as the wind howled.

Granger sunk to the ground and I should have plucked her from the ground. I should have held her against me, but I didn't. I knew we were safe. We had made it to the Order. I had done it. I had completed my task and my shoulders relaxed as the weight rescinded.

I nearly smiled, but a figure emerged from the home behind the Order members in the garden. My rage was instantaneous. I felt my lips curl into a snarl and I wanted blood.

"Weasley!"

I didn't care that Narcissa shrunk from me. There would be time for pleasantries later. The strength returned to my numb limbs and I was running.

I pushed passed my surrogate mother in my haste and I wasn't sorry. I watched that red-haired bastard squeal and slam the door. That fucking door wasn't going to stop me and it didn't.

I nearly blasted it off its hinges in my haste, but then I had him. I dove for him and we crashed to the floor. I dragged him to his feet and I punched his freckled face.

He broke free and held his hands in front of him as if some act of supplication was going to calm me. His eyes were wild with fear and it pleased me.

"Zabini, wait." He panted and bent at the waist, but fuck him.

"Reducto!" I cackled when the table blew up in his face.

I hated that he hadn't drawn his wand. I hated that he was only trying to escape me. I had warned him. He knew I was going to come for him and this was the best he could do? It was fucking insulting.

"I'm sorry!" He squealed, but it wasn't good enough.

He said it over and over as the blood dripped from his torn cheeks. They were only words. They were only words and they meant nothing to me. All of the apologies in the world wouldn't bring back Theo Nott.

"Sectumsempra!" I roared the curse and I watched the slashes appear across his chest in silent satisfaction.

I heard the flurry of heavy feet behind me and I dropped my wand. I had done what I needed to do. I didn't kill him. They should have been thankful that I had shown mercy to one who did not deserve it.

"Fuck."

I don't know who said it. I didn't care who said it. I simply stood over Weasley and watched him bleed into the threadbare carpet. I'm sure he could see the everlasting hate in my eyes. I wanted him to see it. I wanted to see him beg, but he didn't.

Fucking Potter pushed me out of the way and knelt beside the freckled fiend. He tore open Weasley's hideous plaid shirt and cursed again. Father Weasley gasped and looked to Potter as if that kid had any answers.

He had one fucking job and couldn't even do it. He spent entirely too much time whining about the lost instead of focusing on saving the future. He relied too heavily on Granger and he coddled Weasley. It's not like he didn't know what he needed to do, but he delayed and look where that got us.

I don't know how many of my housemates, how many of my friends are dead. I don't know if they're in hiding. I don't know if they're fighting. I don't know fuckall, but I'm not pretending I do either. I did what I could and I know it wasn't enough, but I'm not about to put Harry Potter on a pedestal.

"What happened?"

I felt sick. I felt hot and cold at the same time. My head was pounding and I closed my eyes to wipe away the images. It didn't work.

Weasley was lying on the ground gasping, but he was also standing beside Potter. He looked angry, but I had to be seeing things. I was insane. It was the only explanation I had.

"R-Ron?" Father Weasley pulled standing Weasley to the floor and shoved his face beside Bleeding Weasley.

"Who is that? I don't…" Weasley swallowed hard and backed away from his bleeding self with fear in his eyes. "G-Ginny stunned me. Sh-she shoved me in the bloody larder and…and…no."

He looked at me. I looked at him. There were no words.

The bleeding Weasley's face bubbled and faded into that of Girl Weasley. She sobbed and clutched Potter's hand. The pool of blood beneath her continued to grow and I didn't think she had much time left.

"Oh no, Ginny what have you done?" Potter wiped his cheek and I concentrated on the line of blood beneath his eye.

"It's ok, H-Harry," Girl Weasley struggled to breathe as she spoke. "Y-you never needed me. You never…needed me as much as…as much as you…need him." Her words gurgled together and even I gagged. "It's ok. It's ok."

Scarface Weasley pushed through the wreckage and snarled. He pushed Potter and Father Weasley away. French Weasley looked at Scarface Weasley and nodded. They held out their hands and started chanting, which is when I stopped paying attention.

I'm an arse, alright? Actually, I was really fucking conflicted. On the one hand, I really wished I had struck the proper Weasley. On the other hand, I quite enjoyed the utter and complete distress on Weasley's face. His sister saved his life for Potter. He'd have to live with that little fact for the rest of his life. Of course, I had to live with the fact I damaged Girl Weasley, but it was a small price to pay.

I didn't want to watch anymore. I needed to make sure Granger wasn't still lying in the fucking mud. If I had still been a childish bastard, there would have definitely been some joke there, but I was different now. Well, I was a little different.

"Hermione, you can't stay out here. You'll catch your death." Narcissa and some witch that looked eerily like Bellatrix knelt beside my charge.

"I cursed a Weasley. They might need you. I'll see to her." I shrugged and did what I should have done before. I plucked Granger from the ground.

My cloak was sodden, but it was dry on the interior. It worked well enough to cover Granger properly. Her teeth were chattering and her lips were blue. I had to pry the tufts of grass from her fingers and I held her close.

She relaxed a little and that made me feel better. At least she wasn't shouting at me for being a bastard. I assumed that would come later, but it didn't.

When I stepped back into the house, Girl Weasley was gone. I don't know what happened to her, but Scarface and French Weasley were gone too. Potter was just standing there and staring at the puddle of blood on the ground like a ponce.

Father Weasley had managed to fix the table and he gasped when he saw me. A blonde witch stepped into the crowded kitchen with an armload of blankets. At least she had some sense about her and that was comforting.

"She needs medical attention," I spoke softly so as not to alarm anyone.

"She?" Weasley looked confused, but that didn't surprise me. He was always a bit dim.

"Granger. She's fucking freezing. We've been travelling for ages. I hope you lot have a Healer or a Mediwitch or something, she'll need one." I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

Wispy Blonde Witch laid a few blankets across the table and smiled at me. I didn't know what to make of smiles. I didn't know what to make of kindnesses either, but I had to try…for Granger.

"Cissa is adept at Healing." Potter's dead green eyes met mine and I nodded curtly.

"Did you…did you say, Hermione?" Stupid Weasley stepped forward, but I growled at him. I didn't want him anywhere near her. Merlin only knows who he would kill next and I'd be damned if it was going to be the one witch that had captured Draco Malfoy's heart.

"Stay the fuck away from her."

I set her on the blankets and murmured some soothing sounds as I unwrapped her. She immediately curled into a ball and shook. It was difficult getting the cloak off her, but I managed. I appreciated the fact they didn't interfere. They let me handle her.

The Blonde Witch helped me dry Granger's hair. At least her hair looked clean and wasn't nearly as matted as it was. Her slacks had been nothing more than rags before we left and now they were tatters. It didn't feel right to disrobe her completely, but she couldn't stay in rags.

Potter stared down at her in what could only be described as shock and awe. Granger stared at nothing, but flinched away from Potter's hand, not that I could blame her. He looked hurt and good. Fuck him.

The Blonde Witch tugged on the ripped sleeve at my elbow and it annoyed me. I managed to look at her without growling, which is progress when surrounded by the Order. She smiled and I wondered if she was a little barmy.

"You're very angry," She stretched onto her toes to whisper in my ear.

"Really? I hadn't any idea." I peeled my old jumper off Granger and immediately covered her with a thick afghan.

"I've got a very important appointment. Later, when the Wrackspurts have cleared, I'll send you a message. Meet me." She smiled so brightly I really wanted to punch her.

I don't hit women, just in case you were wondering. I've thought about it. I've dreamt about it. Alright fine, it was just Bellatrix and that bitch barely qualified.

"Why? Where? Can't you see I'm busy here?" I scoffed and lifted Granger's arm to tuck another blanket around her when I heard the gasps.

The Order isn't made up of the brightest witches and wizards. I wondered how long it would take someone, anyone to notice that there was more to Granger than before she left. Apparently, the correct answer to that question is exactly forty-seven minutes, just in case you were wondering.

"What the fuck did you do to her, Zabini?" Of course, it was Weasley shouting at me. It seemed he had learned absolutely nothing from seeing his sister nearly die.

"Nothing," I could have told him so much more, but I didn't want to. I didn't have to. It wasn't my fucking story to tell. Ugh, why couldn't he just fuck off?

"Who's…I mean…is she? I don't…" He babbled a bit more but Father Weasley dragged him out by the ear, which was fantastic.

Narcissa was a stealthy witch and before I could blink she had squatted beside Granger. They were eye level and the silent conversation passed between them as we all watched. I could see the question in Cissa's blue eyes. I couldn't see the answer in Granger's, but I knew it was there. It didn't take but a minute before Cissa was embracing Granger. I breathed a sigh of relief as it was one less thing I had to worry about.

"Will you then?" The Barmy Blonde was still pestering me and I looked at the ceiling.

"Where?" I was intrigued, there was no need to lie.

I really just wanted a warm meal and fresh clothes. Oh! A hot fucking shower would have been absolutely divine. A bloke can dream, right?

"The Thames." She bounced on the tips of her toes and she was filled with an exuberance that was nearly catching.

"The river? Why the fuck would I want to do that?" I pursed my lips and shivered.

"I need to deposit something is all." She winked at me and I feared there was a message there and I was missing it.

"Why would you want to put something there?"

It was lucky no one was paying us the slightest bit of attention. They were all huddled around Granger. They were whispering and throwing me murderous glances, but it wasn't my fault Granger was up the duff. I was nearly giddy with excitement as I waited for the truth of the matter to be revealed.

Blondie flashed me the interior pocket of her cloak. There was a book there, but that wasn't the interesting part. It was the fact the pages were opened to display a terrifying likeness of Nagini. Gods, I can't even begin to tell you how much I hated that fucking snake. If this little slip of a witch thought she could dispel of it, I would have paid all the galleons in my vault to witness it.

She winked at me and my minuscule bubble of hope blossomed into a deluge of relief, "It's a long way down to the bottom of the river."

* * *

Lyrics attributed to Delta Rae - Bottom of the River


	25. 25 - Voldemort

I dislike silences.

I dislike the sounds of breathing.

I dislike the sounds of shoes clipping across harsh, unforgiving floors.

I dislike Harry Potter. Wait, that is incorrect information. I despise Harry Potter with every ounce of my being. He is an anomaly and I do believe I'd rather enjoy watching him fall lifelessly to the floor. Of course, I need for my full strength for such things.

"My Lord, those are…lovely trees."

I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to hang the man from the ceiling by his toes. He was interrupting me and that would never do. He's loyal, I'll give him that much, the simpering is entirely too much, even for me. If I have a choice in the matter, I'd rather spend my moments with Bellatrix.

At least she had half a brain in her head. There's no doubt the poor girl was absolutely insane, but I was fond of her in my own way. That was a lie. She served a purpose and now she's dead. Her death will not keep me from achieving my end goal.

I want the rivers to run red with the blood of Muggles and Halfbloods. I want to close my eyes as I fall into my bed in complete satisfaction, as I'm lulled to sleep by the screams, the terrible screams. The screams of the unfortunate are akin to the most beautifully composed symphony.

When I was a child, I observed more than anything. I needed to understand this strange power I had. I toyed with it incessantly and perhaps I tortured a few Muggles, but they were only Muggles. I suppose if Albus Dumbledore hadn't interfered, I never would have discovered Hogwarts.

I learned more than I thought possible, but it wasn't while wasting away in lessons. It was sneaking into the Restricted Section. It was more of an education than I ever expected. It was difficult, but that was only due to Albus' meddling. The best thing I ever did was order Draco Malfoy to murder the man.

Of course, the cowardly child failed, just as I expected him too. It was merely a ruse. The Malfoys had angered me. What better way to prove their loyalty than to fail in their task and die? Lucius had been decidedly Slytherin. I could have respected him if I had been a different wizard and he had been a better man.

That was also a lie. Respect him. Ridiculous notion. His only redeeming quality was a familial Manor with enough protections to keep the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix at bay until the end of time. I quite enjoyed my safe haven.

I can't say I am fond of it being my personal prison, but thanks to Bellatrix there are ways to work around such things. They are not without consequence, but I don't feel as though I owe anyone an explanation. As if I would freely trade information about my condition without incentive? Surely, you jest.

I've spent many, many years studying Mr Harry Potter. He shouldn't exist. The very idea that his dirty mother's magic was enough to allow him to continue to draw breath is insulting to true wizards. I know what you're thinking.

I am well aware of the fact my own father was a Muggle. Did you think I would forget? Impossible. I can't begin to tell you the number of times the information was brought to the forefront to attempt to lure me into the Light. The Light had never been the least bit enticing. It was filled with accepting witches and wizards who just so happened to shun everything I adored. Why on earth would I ever wish to be a part of that?

Magic is a gift and it should be utilised. We shouldn't be cowering, hiding away from the filthy Muggles. We could easily decimate them, but no, the Ministry passed its silly little decrees of secrecy, as if that would save them. My favourite spells were considered Dark Magic! Of course, they are, that's the entire point!

Regardless, while they were busy hiding away from the rest of the non-magical world, I was studying. I was researching. I was destroying. It wasn't nearly as difficult as I was led to believe.

Scare tactics only work on impressionable children, and I was far from impressionable. They were too late. They had abandoned me. They had left me to rub shoulders with filth, and I was not filth. I was better than them. I always was, but they refused to see.

Professor Horace Slughorn was quite helpful. Manipulation is child's play when you know exactly what the other participant covets. Young Horace was no better than me. That's not true. I was worse and I'm proud of it, thank you very much. However, a few rare trinkets and he was most willing to share intimate knowledge that aided in making me exactly who I am.

"My Lord! There are…there are Muggles wandering through the iron gates!"

Greyback was mistaken. He was only a beast and beasts were not remotely reliable, though they had their uses. I refused to lift my eyes from the canvas. He was interrupting my mediatory portion of the day. As much as it chuffs me to admit it, these trees were going to be the death of everyone.

Yes, that's right I enjoy painting. There's nothing wrong with lifting a brush and depicting a gloriously dark story in a delicate, yet intricate manner. In the end, of course, the trees and the occupants of my art are dipping with smears of crimson, but it soothes me.

"You are mistaken." I dabbed the fan brush in the corner and swiped it quickly across the wet canvas, nearly satisfied with the ominous inky clouds in the royal blue sky.

"He isn't."

I knew that voice. I hated that voice. I couldn't pretend my level of hatred for that particular voice was higher than my hatred of Harry Potter's whine, but it was close enough. I dropped my brush and wondered if I would be able to find the time to correct the slight imperfections before I turned to face my enemy.

"Draco Malfoy, you've finally decided to grace us with your presence. Tell me, should I feel privileged by your arrival?"

The emaciated boy stumbled into the conservatory, and for a moment, I nearly forgot he was blinded. He was still incredibly elegant for a prisoner and I found it quite disconcerting. I would have been preening with joy if he had been a simpering pathetic waste, but he wasn't and I hated it.

He didn't look at me. He didn't acknowledge me at all. I suppose spending years living as nothing more than a filthy Muggle, one forgets their manners. I felt slighted and that would never do.

I knew better than to jinx or even hex the man. I had learned my lesson, though it had been a difficult pill to swallow. Oh see, now I'm disgusted with myself. I thought a dirty Muggle phrase. What is the world coming to? Nothing is the way it should be and I suppose it's a combined effort. It wasn't all Harry Potter's fault. Draco Malfoy had done more than enough to ensure I would be constricted by his family's Blood Magicks.

It disgusted me. I am the Dark Lord. I am Lord Voldemort! I am above such mundane things, except it seems I am not. I can't even begin to explain to you the perplexity of such a notion. I am the greatest wizard that ever lived and yet the incestuous Pureblood ancestry of the Malfoys keeps me prisoner. Me!

"I've come to bargain with you."

I hated the lilting manner in which he spoke. I hated the twitch dancing on the corner of his mouth. I hated the graceful movements of the pale wizard as well. Fuck, I hate everything!

"And what, young Malfoy, do you believe you can offer me?" I kept the timbre of my voice low and raspy.

I didn't want him to believe for one moment that he had the upper hand. It would never do to be indebted to a disappointment, even if he was Pureblood. I suppose his ancestry is only part of the reason I hated so much as I did. He had what I wanted and he carelessly tossed it away. He sickened me and yet here he stood.

"Freedom."

It was obvious he had memorised the room. Of course, he had. It was his family home and if the lone remaining Malfoy did not hold intimate knowledge of his place of residence,…I don't know where I was going with that. Pretend there was a point.

He intrigued me. I can't lie and say he didn't. He was a proverbial thorn in my side, but then again, so was Harry Potter. Fucking children interfering with my plans for world domination had a tendency to do that. I couldn't wait to be rid of them, but they were cunning and I hated that.

I am Lord Voldemort. I am not supposed to be bested by children, yet here I sit, covered in paint waiting for yet another child to entice me. Draco Malfoy was quite the Slytherin. At least he learned something from his abysmal upbringing.

His father was weak, but the Malfoy boy wasn't nearly as weak as I had originally believed him to be. The very idea that I had underestimated him made me furious. I wasn't a stupid man, but it seemed I had become distracted by regaining a formidable body rather than decimating everything in my path.

"Go on." I waved my hand and feigned disinterest.

I still wasn't particularly attuned to this body, but at least the man whom I had invaded had enough to sense to remain quiet. There were moments when I wondered if he was still present, but I was only answered with more silences, which suited me just fine. I didn't need to hear anymore snivelling.

I kept a careful eye on the boy. I didn't trust him. I might be a quarter of my true self, but even so, I had more power than he could even dream of having. It was a disadvantage as much as it was exhilarating.

"It seems we've come to an impasse."

He fucking smirked at me, at me! He couldn't even fucking see me and he was smirking at me. If I could have murdered him and not reduced myself to ashes, I would have.

"Your point?" I hissed and he didn't even flinch!

Did he forget he was standing before the Dark Lord? Did he forget I had murdered his father? Did he forget that with a simple wave of my wand, his life would be nothing more than a memory?

I upended my easel and sent my paints splattering onto the floor. I lamented the loss of my beautiful trees, but it was his fault. Everything was his fault. The protections of his father kept me bound from doing the boy true harm and I couldn't stand it any longer. There had to be a way to break the enchantments, but my magnificent Bellatrix was dead. There wasn't anyone left, besides me of course, that had nearly enough intelligence to discover the Malfoy secrets.

The Manor shifted beneath my feet and for a scant moment, I was afraid. The magicks of the Manor had allowed me to keep hidden. They had allowed me to dutifully plan the end of Wizardingkind as long as Draco Malfoy was kept securely within the walls, but we couldn't even manage that, now could we?

He wandered about as if he owned the properties and fuck me, he did. My legacy was falling to ruins and it wasn't due to Harry Potter. It was due to this Pureblood orphan who dared to fucking smile at me. He wasn't afraid of me! I doubted he was afraid of anything, except perhaps death.

"I'd be willing to give you your freedom," Draco paused with a shuddered breath, "for a price."

My excitement made me nearly delirious. He was proposing a gift? Who am I to turn down such a lovely present? I didn't even care how he would manage it. Perhaps there was hope for the boy after all.

"Your arrogance truly knows no bounds, does it?" I taunted him and it felt good. I had missed intelligent banter. Merlin knows the Death Eaters that remained were light in the cleverness department, but at least they were loyal.

"I learnt from the best." The young Malfoy's fingers tapped against the glass of a window pane and I preened.

"Don't toy with me so, Draco." I crooned and he flinched. I didn't much like that at all.

I wiped my wet hands on the paint-splattered slacks I wore and crossed my arms. He was irritating me with his impudence. He had caused me to ruin my painstaking work of art and for what? What was the point of his posturing?!

"Let's just say," he sighed and his shoulders slumped, which caused me to frown heavily. "I'd willingly allow you use of my body…in return for a singular promise."

I didn't care what the fuck he wished me to promise. He had no idea what he was offering me. He couldn't. My current body reacted with such an amazing cock twitch I had to glance down to make sure it hadn't spurted in my slacks. The Malfoy body would allow me everything I ever wished and I panted at the thought.

"It is yours." I don't know how I managed to speak in such a controlled manner. I was practically drooling with excitement and the front of my slacks was damp. I'm not even ashamed to admit it.

I could see the fucking Muggles wandering the grounds and I hissed angrily. Fucking dirt was trodding across the gardens. Their mouths were gaped open in wonder and I wanted to brandish my wand and watch their bodies crumple in the silent screams of death. How dare they venture into my world?

"Someone once told me only a fool makes promises without details." The Malfoy brat stroked his chin in what could only be described as silent musing.

"I would curse you…"

"But you can't without injuring yourself. It's funny how these enchantments and protections function isn't it?" The little bastard smiled at me. "I can't begin to tell you how easy it would have been to vacate my family home. Did you ever realise I was never truly your prisoner? I remained because I chose to, and don't think for one minute you ever wielded any power over me."

"You're a fool, young Draco." I laughed without mirth that quickly died in my throat when he approached me.

"You will never touch her."

There was spittle on my face! I'd had worse things on my face, but this isn't the time to discuss such things. It was absolutely disgusting. I'm not remiss to admit I grappled with him. I lunged toward him and we rolled around the floor much like Muggle filth.

"My Lord!" Some Death Eater wrenched us apart.

What? You don't have the right to judge me. I can't possibly be expected to remember all their fucking names. Honestly, who cares as long as they do what they're told?

"Legilimens."

It was easy enough to cast such a spell, but I was not prepared for what I saw. It seemed the Malfoy heir fancied himself enamoured with a Mudblood. I was well aware of the fact my Death Eaters enjoyed shoving their cocks into the unclean, but this was different. It wasn't simply another orifice for relief. It was tangled with pesky emotions and I couldn't tear myself from his memories fast enough.

"Disgusting!" I jabbed my wand into the taut skin of his throat and my limbs were trembling with barely concealed rage.

"Jealous?" Draco Malfoy taunted me from the safety of Dolohov's unbreakable hold. "Does this mean you're going to reject my offer? Can't say I'm surprised. I always thought your questionable heritage made you weaker than Pureblooded wizards, in more ways than one." He scoffed and fucking winked at me.

"Bring him here." I was not going to be bested by an impudent child.

"You can't take it by force," he laughed. "It is only by my allowance that you're able to reside within Malfoy Manor as it is. Did you honestly believe you were barricaded here by nothing more than familial love protections? That's actually quite amusing. Oh, I see you did."

Dolohov released him and backed away slowly. I was losing my hold over my most faithful! I had to do something and quickly if I expected to emerge relatively unscathed. I couldn't lose this war. I couldn't watch witches and wizards mingle with Muggles as though it was…normal. I had to put an end to everything remotely resembling Light and if I had to kowtow to fucking Draco Malfoy, so be it.

It went against everything I stood for. It went against everything I had ever believed. However, once I was in complete control, I could do what I wished. Therefore, what did it matter if I was forced to stroke his delicate ego in order to procure that which I desired? It was nothing, just as he would soon be.

"State your terms, young Mr Malfoy." I ignored his pensive stare and Scourgified my clothing.

If I was going to rise up once more, I had to be presentable. I righted my easel and banished the dried paint. I couldn't bear to destroy my latest work and leant it against the far wall. I had plans to finish it with the dedication it deserved.

"Her." His voice was incredibly soft and slightly broken, which pleased me immensely.

He was willing to give his life for a Mudblood. I was tempted to cackle at the absurdity of it all, but I didn't. I could feel his magic and I wanted it. I wanted to harness it. I wanted the skies to darken and the streets to run red with blood. I couldn't do that if he refused to relinquish control to me.

"Is that all?" I twirled my wand as if I hadn't a care in the world. "The last remaining Malfoy wishes nothing more than his Mudblood whore to survive my carnage?" I walked around him slowly and I couldn't smell a trace of fear on him. "I suppose…it could be arranged."

"Rest assured if you vacillate for even the hint of a moment, you'll revert to a form from which you will never recover." He blinked and I swore he was staring at me as I scoffed in derision. "Do you really doubt me? Are you really that sure of yourself and your prowess? And you claim I'm arrogant."

He was mistaken. I was absolutely positive he wasn't the least bit aware of Nagini. She was safely hidden away and not even I could breach the enchantments. I had outdone myself, really. Who would expect that the darkest Lord to ever exist would utilise such magicks? It was ingenious and I owed it all to my Bella.

She has suggested pureness. I had baulked, which was unsurprising. I detested all things good. However, she made a valid point. The idea titillated me. Only the purest of heart would be capable of reaching my beloved horcrux. I highly doubted there was anyone in existence that hadn't tainted their soul in some respect. It was perfect, and that was why I agreed to his terms.

Dolohov oversaw the Vow. I shivered as the magic converged over us and I was eager to take that which was now mine. I preferred a strong, muscular body, but the magic the boy exuded would have to do. Perhaps at a later time, I could shed his gaunt form and become whatever I pleased. Perhaps, one day I would be handsome once more, but it wasn't a necessity as long as I was the most powerful wizard in all the land.

My borrowed lips stretched into a smile until I vacated the form. I watched the body crumple to the ground and waited for the man to arise. He didn't. I supposed I had overstayed my welcome and the poor man's mind couldn't survive my presence. Pity.

I saw it. I saw the flicker of fear in the milky grey eyes. It pleased me more than words could say. He was finally afraid and I revelled in it. I wondered how long he would last before he faded away into nothingness. I hoped he'd go quickly, but only because I do so hate to share.

I appreciated the fact he didn't retreat. There was something to be said for his bravery. It wasn't usually a Slytherin attribute and I blamed his whore. It didn't matter, I had won.

I can only describe the sensation as stepping into the cool bath. It was slightly uncomfortable, but once I grew used to it, quite pleasant. He didn't fight against the invasion, which made it easier. It seemed Draco Malfoy hadn't any fight left and that suited me just fine.

"Perfect." I flexed his fingers…or rather my fingers and tested the limits of my new body.

It was weaker than I expected and it would need rest, which was terribly off-putting. I didn't want to wait! I wanted to march through the gates and obliterate everything! Alas, that couldn't happen until he was properly fed and rested.

 _"My aren't you pleased with yourself."_

He dared to speak to me! It was unconscionable! My last body had only whimpered and begged. I didn't like this at all. Ugh.

I ignored him. He was only attention seeking and the best manner in which to deal with childish behaviours was to ignore it. He would fade away soon enough and I couldn't wait.

I could feel his magic rippling through me, and it made me feel stronger than I ever believed possible. Harry Potter had nothing on me! I cracked my knuckles and with a quick wave of my wand, I gathered my followers.

They baulked at the sight of me and I basked in the glory of their revulsion. I was indestructible in this form and I couldn't be happier. The protections surrounding the pitiful excuse for a Death Eater had transferred to me since I now inhabited him. All I needed to do now was dispatch a particularly irritating raven-haired boy with a scar.

 _"You've been saying that for years and yet here you are."_

He laughed at me. He fucking laughed at me! Ungrateful wretch should feel privileged that I embodied him. I positive there was more than a few of my followers that had been vying for the position and this ingrate mocked me.

 _"You're much more pathetic from the inside."_

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

He chuckled and my hand moved of its own volition to scratch my nose. Oh, I see, it was a power play. It was no bother that he managed to force my body to do his bidding. He was no match for me. I would squash him eventually and I couldn't wait until he was begging for freedom with his last breath.

 _"I don't see that happening."_

His goal was madness. He planned to drive me mad with his fucking commentary on my every movement. However, Draco forgot something exceptionally pertinent. I had spent nearly a year lodged onto the back of Quirinus Quirrell's head. If I could survive that hapless knave, I could survive anything at all.

The silence upon revisiting that memory pleased me. It didn't last long and that was quite a shame. The little parasite saw fit to shove unsettling images to the forefront. How dare he? As if I wished to see him in flagrante with…wait, was that actually Potter's fucking Mudblood? Motherfucker. He forced me to promise not to touch the one piece of filth that would have brought me Potter on bended knee?

 _"Sorry, I had assumed my dear departed Aunt Bella had informed you that you held the key to ending the War beneath your nonexistent nose. It seems I was mistaken, my apologies."_

He was entirely too serene. I didn't like it. Perhaps I had acted rashly. Perhaps I should have properly pondered his offer. It was too late and I wasn't going to relinquish his body regardless. It was simply a thought process laced with doubt and you can't fault me for such things.

"Dispose of the Muggles."

A flash of magic escaped my wand and it wasn't my doing. This Malfoy was going to be trouble. I cracked my neck and watched my Death Eaters scurry onto the grounds. I closed my eyes and listened to the screams. My skin tingled with satisfaction. Their sounds of distress were the musical symphony I had envisioned and nothing could be sweeter.

 _"Not even killing Harry Potter?"_

I clenched my hands into fists of rage. I paced the length of the drawing room and missed my robes billowing out behind me. I was also hungry, but this damned body craved nothing more than fucking toast and jam.

I detested eating with my hands. There was something plebian about dirty hands. It was uncivilised. I refused to debase myself by caving to its demands. Of course, that meant my stomach grumbled angrily, which suited my mood.

I pushed passed some quivering mass of bones and stepped into the garden. I was pleased to see bodies strewn across Narcissa's prize roses. It was fitting that their white petals were splashed with filthy blood. It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough.

The sky darkened with an ominous glow. I quite enjoyed that. It reminded me of the days when my Morsmorde hovered amongst the clouds. I considered casting it, but I didn't wish to alert any straggling Order members of my location.

 _"Pussy."_

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

I was losing my temper. I was losing my mind. I was losing everything I held dear. I needed a shower. The piping hot water cascading over my new pale skin would help me to clear my mind. It would also allow my faithful to finish off the wandering filth.

I stomped my way toward my chambers and kicked a few house elves along the way. I wondered if they were confused. I mean, I was wearing their Master's face, wasn't I? I snickered as I disrobed and cringed away from my reflection.

At least his blindness hadn't been foisted upon me. Could you imagine a blind Dark Lord? What good would that do anyone? I wouldn't have been able to accomplish anything at all.

The water wasn't nearly as hot as I wanted it. It didn't do much, if anything, as far as calming my ire. The bloody parasite constantly shoved thoughts of her into my head. I was revolted!

My body was a fucking traitor as well. The cock that I could only call mine, dutifully rose to the occasion the moment it was presented with images of a nude Mudblood splayed across grimy bedding. The sounds, sweet mother of gods the sounds were unconscionable. It was downright degrading to be forced to stroke my rigid cock to pink parted lips and gasps of filth. I was disgusted with myself, but I had to admit I felt much better.

The moment I brushed my damp blond hair off my forehead, I felt it. Something was different. Something was amiss and it pricked at the last vestiges of my soul.

I stalked down the marble steps and stepped into the foyer. I felt it. The sharp stabbing pain in my chest was harsh enough for me to double over. I gasped and stumbled my way to the front door. I needed to feel the air on my skin.

The winds were swirling hard and heavy. The rain pelted my freshly cleaned skin, but I barely felt anything at all. I could hear her, my beloved. She was calling for me. She was begging me for aid. She was…she was screaming and I wasn't there.

"Nagini," I crooned and fell to my knees.

She was writhing in pain and I couldn't reach her. My head ached with a piercing pain that refused to ebb. Someone had done it. Someone had dared to violate my failsafe. She was free of her enclosure!

It was impossible. I had been so careful. I had plotted and planned. I was fucking infallible!

 _"Obviously not."_

"You shut up! Don't you dare speak to me you ingrate!"

I gripped my silky strands in double fists and screamed into the sky. I felt as though an unseen hand had sliced across my skin. An angry fist was shoved into my chest cavity and gripped my heart until it was painful for it to beat. I struggled to breathe and nearly choked on the deluge of water that filled my mouth and then it was gone.

She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. No, I was wrong. I had to be wrong. She couldn't be gone. I needed her. She was all I had left. IMPOSSIBLE!

I stretched my hand forward and grasped for my connection to her, but I was left with nothing. I felt empty. I felt hollow. I felt as though every good thing left in the world had been unceremoniously stolen from me and I would never recover.

"My baby, my poor little poopsy!"

I laid prone on the ground and my breath was forced from my lungs with great tufts of rage. My entire body shook with the force of my rage and I felt my magic pulsating through my veins. They would pay. They would all pay. I would leave no stone unturned. I would end them all. I would…

 _"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"_

Nagini was my last remaining defence and someone had taken her from me. I was stunned. I couldn't fathom the idea of anyone coming away unscathed. Pure of heart was supposed to be a fucking myth. How could this be? How is it everything I ever believed could come crashing down around me?

 _"Now you know how the rest of us feel."_

I vowed I would watch them all burn, starting with Harry Potter.

* * *

Obviously, the Little Mermaid bit isn't mine.


	26. It Opens At The Close

_Luna Lovegood. No one ever suspected it would be Luna Lovegood, but that was the beauty of it. She was as pure as fresh fallen snow even amidst the horrors of death and war. She loved with a fierceness that nearly rivalled the loyalty of any Hufflepuff. She was brilliant and unique, and it was she who dispatched the last horcrux of one enraged Tom Riddle._

 _While the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix surrounded Hermione Granger with whispers of awe, Luna smiled to herself. It wasn't the least bit difficult for her to decipher the cryptic words of Hermione Granger for to her, they weren't nearly cryptic enough. It wasn't in her nature to be disparaging of others, yet she couldn't help a huff of annoyance. It was so easy, terribly easy really and what could it hurt to try?_

 _She had whispered to Blaise Zabini amidst the commotion and while he was thoroughly confused, she knew he would meet her. They were similar in some ways, of that Luna was certain. His curiosity would get the best of him in the end._

 _Luna slipped away to the Burrow and pushed her sodden blonde hair from her eyes as she approached Arthur's shed. The chill in the air didn't permeate her heavy psychedelic cloak and she was grateful for the protections as she pushed open the heavy door. Her nose crinkled in delight as Tom Riddle's prize horcrux hovered in stasis._

 _"You poor dear," Luna sighed. "I suppose you didn't imagine your life would be spent like this, did you?"_

 _Luna clasped her hands behind her back and slowly walked around the snake with a critical eye. Nagini's black eyes stared at the blonde, not that there was a choice in the matter. Luna captivated her singular audience and the remnant of Voldemort's soul shrunk away from her as much as it was capable in such close quarters._

 _"You're quite a large girl, aren't you? Hmm, well I suppose there's no point in delaying the inevitable. I do hope it doesn't cause you to much pain," Luna reached into her cloak and struggled with the weight of the object. "This wasn't supposed to be my task. I should be far away from here, diligently searching for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and yet here I am. This was supposed to be Neville's moment, but your master stole it from him."_

 _Luna Lovegood dropped a burlap sack at her feet and smiled encouragingly at Nagini. For a moment, she almost wished she could speak Parseltongue. She imagined the stories Nagini would be able to share with her and sighed._

 _She glanced down at the sword of Gryffindor with a determined glint in her cornflower blue eyes. She knew she could do this, though she had to admit it was Fleur who had suggested it. Luna smiled as she recalled her friend._

 _Fleur was kind to her when everyone was just a touch too dark and jaded. Luna didn't subscribe to the notion of allowing dark times to interfere with an optimistic outlook. It was part of the reason she had left for the coast in the first place. There was something about the water that had always calmed her and it allowed her to escape, at least for a little while._

 _As she asked Nagini to lower her head, Luna came to a realisation. This was her first true act of war. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she also didn't allow such things to keep from completing her mission._

 _"Well, that was much messier than expected," Luna shrugged her shoulders and dropped the sword._

 _She waited until Nagini's head rolled into the leg of a workbench and nodded. Her nose crinkled at the stains of blood on her hands and wiped them on her skirt. She shoved the decapitated head into her burlap sack and spelt it to contain the mess._

 _Luna looked at the body as she flung the sack over her shoulder. She watched it twitch and wondered if she should bury the body. She didn't. She wanted someone to see what had been done and report it to Harry. With a simple flick of her wand, Luna's Patronus burst into the sky and was off with a simple message._

* * *

 _"I don't want to stay here," Hermione Granger whispered into Blaise Zabini's welcoming chest._

 _He groaned, but he didn't attempt to dislodge her. Why she had latched onto him as someone she considered safe was anyone's guess. It wasn't that he minded tending to her, he didn't. It was the furtive glances laced with distrust that was nearly his undoing._

 _What more did the Order want from him? He had traipsed through miles upon miles of tunnels and brought them their princess. You'd think that would afford him some pleasantries, but alas, they were constantly seeking to uncover his hidden agenda._

 _"I don't either, but there isn't a choice in the matter," Blaise absently rubbed her back as he watched the twins whisper in the corner. "Unless they'd be willing to allow me to procure a flat. Gods, I'd love to go home and that's saying something since I don't have a fucking home anymore, but that doesn't matter to this lot does it?"_

 _Blaise freely admitted he shrieked like a young child when an eager hare bounded into the small sitting room and sat at his feet. He had never seen such magic before, not in all his days. It was the epitome of Light and he wasn't fortunate enough to have been exposed to any of it._

 _"Now," The hare's mouth opened and Lovegood's lilting voice sprung free and it was only then that the rapid beat of his heart calmed._

 _"What was that about?" The twins looked over at Blaise with minimal interest yet without malice._

 _"Here, look after Granger. I-I told Lovegood I'd meet her." Blaise practically shoved Hermione into their unwilling arms and bolted for the front door._

 _He heard the concerned shouts behind him, but he simply moved faster. He flung open the front door and immediately Disapparated. The door swung in the light breeze and clicked shut._

 _He couldn't Apparate directly to the Thames. There were entirely too many Muggles about, but Blaise was well versed in Muggle London. One of his favourite pastimes had been sneaking away from the Wizarding World. He sought solace. He sought acceptance and the irony of finding such things amongst Muggles was not lost on him._

 _Blaise was giddy with the excitement of freedom and he hurried on his way. He hoped this wasn't some sort of elaborate trick. He just wanted to be free of it all and somehow Blaise honestly believed Luna Lovegood could lend aid._

 _"There you are," Luna skipped with her blonde hair flowing out behind her and a heavy burlap sack over her shoulder._

 _Considering they were not friends, to say Blaise was surprised by her exuberance was an understatement. His first inclination was to tear his arm from her grasp, but she smiled so sweetly, he didn't see the point in it. Therefore, Blaise Zabini allowed Luna Lovegood to lead him along the Thames with her damp rainbow skirt blowing in the light breeze._

 _"I'm really glad you came. I wasn't sure you would, but you didn't disappoint," Luna scrunched her shoulders in outright happiness, and her joy was catching._

 _"I don't know why I'm here, but I must admit I was curious," said Blaise._

 _"Of course you were," Luna waited until the Muggles dispersed before she set her sack on the ground with a low grunt. "Are you ready then? Somehow I feel it's fitting that you're the one to dispose of her."_

 _"Dispose of…Lovegood, have you…is that…it's not a body is it?" Blaise stepped backwards with a grimace._

 _"Don't be silly. An entire body wouldn't fit in here, it's just a head. Would you like to see it?" Luna opened the bag as though she were presenting a gift and Blaise gagged at the stench._

 _"What the fuck have you done?" Blaise scoured the immediate area for prying eyes and came up empty._

 _"It wasn't that difficult. I really thought it would be harder and looked forward to the challenge, but all I had to do was slice her head off. Can you believe it? The sword did most of the work really, but even so," Luna shrugged as she shoved an errant blonde strand behind her ear. "Would you be so kind as to toss this abomination into the river?"_

 _Blaise took the burlap sack that was shoved into his hands with a grunt of malcontent. He didn't want to know, but yet he so desperately did. He was also just the slightest bit afraid of the slight witch, not that he would admit to such things aloud. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and immediately regretted it as the coppery scent of blood assailed him._

 _"Am I going to get sent to Azkaban for this?" Blaise hissed as he took a few unhurried steps toward the river._

 _"I should hope not. I rather like to believe the Wizarding World would be ever so thankful to the wizard that tossed Nagini's head into the River Thames."_

 _Blaise yelped and hurled the sack away from him. His dark eyes widened in horror as the sack toppled into the river with a great plop. He watched the bubbles pop on the surface and then it was gone. It sunk slowly and Blaise choked on the saliva that filled his mouth._

 _"Y-you killed it?" He stared at Luna with fresh eyes, filled with respect and awe._

 _"I was fairly certain that was obvious," Luna patted his arm with a small giggle that made his stomach turn. "We're almost there. Now, if you could return to Grimmauld Place and give Harry a message for me, that would be lovely."_

 _"Why would he listen to me? I'm nobody. I'm just the unwilling Death Eater that brought back their Golden Girl. Have you seen the way they look at me?" Blaise Zabini's words were biting, but Luna was capable of seeing through his mask of rage and uncover the hurt._

 _"Give them time," Luna squeezed his bicep and he tried not to recoil away from the bloodstains on her fingers. "They'll see your worth."_

 _"They'd sooner see me in Azkaban." Blaise scoffed._

 _"After you deliver my message to Harry, bring him to the Burrow. He'll have to lead the way, but tell him to venture to the shed. He'll be pleased to see the surprise I've left for him." Luna stretched onto her toes and gently kissed the startled wizard's cheek._

 _"You're a bit barmy."_

 _"Thank you." Luna turned on her heel and quickly disappeared into a sea of Muggles._

* * *

 _"This is stupid," Ron Weasley grumbled in complaint as he kicked the undergrowth._

 _"Shut up, Ron." Harry strode beside his mate with his eyes firmly trained on the ground._

 _He didn't want to explain to Ron his inherent need to find the stone. It was the last connection he had to his parents and he wanted them with him when he faced Voldemort. It had been empowering during the prior battle to know they loved and supported him. Harry desperately needed to know they were with him._

 _It embarrassed him slightly when it was Luna that pointed out such things to him. When Blaise Zabini had dragged him into the garden he had bristled against it. He didn't mistrust the man, but he didn't exactly trust him either. Of course, with the first mention of Luna, Harry offered his undivided attention and hence that was the reason he was scouring the Forbidden Forest for the Resurrection Stone._

 _"We're never going to find it," Ron groaned and clutched his stomach._

 _Ron was hungry. Ron was tired. Ron had spent half the night trying to speak to Hermione, but she refused to do anything more than blink at him. It had been that way for weeks on end and Ron had highly considered jinxing her._

 _"Do you ever stop complaining?" Harry knelt and brushed aside a few broken twigs and branches only to uncover absolutely nothing._

 _"Yes, I do, Harry, thank you so much for asking. I didn't complain when you offered Zabini a bedchamber. I didn't complain when Narcissa suggested she take Hermione with her to the Burrow and you agreed. You agreed, Harry! I didn't complain when you dragged me along on yet another adventure, but now I'm tired. I'm cold. I'm fucking starving, I swear I could eat a Hippogriff and we're looking for the world's smallest garden gnome in a sea of shrubbery." Ron refused to take another step and slumped against a fallen tree._

 _"I knew I should have gone immediately," Harry sat across from his friend and crossed his arms angrily. "I should have listened to Luna, but I'm Harry Potter. I don't have to take anyone's advice and now here I am, weeks after she first suggested it and," Harry tossed his hands into the air and let loose a great shout of fury._

 _"Well, first you had to process the fact that it was your nutty girlfriend that lopped off that bloody snake's head." Ron shuddered and his revulsion was obvious. "Then you had to hem and haw about even going to the Burrow."_

 _"I wasn't hemming and hawing! I was looking at the situation logically and attempting to deduce if it was some sort of elaborate trap." Harry slapped the hard ground with his palm and immediately regretted it as his hand stung._

 _"Nah, that's a Hermione sort of thing. You're Harry Potter. You heard Voldemort in your head and rushed about without thinking all the time," Ron chuckled. "I'm glad you went though. I'm not glad I went with you. I could have done without seeing that rotting corpse in my dad's shed."_

 _"I had to go. There wasn't a choice in the matter," grumbled Harry._

 _"Yeah, but only because we all heard Luna shouting at you. That was fantastic," Ron scrunched his features and cleared his throat. "Harry Potter, you go right now or I'll sit on your cock again!" He clutched his stomach as his laughter erupted. "I thought dad was going to die of embarrassment."_

 _"Shut up, Ron!"_

 _"I overheard Zabini talking to Hermione the other day," Ron studied the small hole in his dark green slacks and pretended Harry wasn't the least bit irritated. "I still find it hard to believe she loves Malfoy," Ron spat the name as though it left a foul taste in his mouth. "He wasn't very nice to us when we were kids, but I suppose I really thought he hated her."_

 _"It's nearly impossible to hate Hermione. I mean, even when you really want to hate her because she bloody well knows everything, you just can't. She's entirely too nice," said Harry as he closed his eyes._

 _"She's not though. Hermione is mean. Do you not remember those birds she conjured and set on me?" Ron's incredulous expression caused Harry to chortle at his mate's expense._

 _"You can't say you didn't deserve it." Harry wiggled his eyebrows and spun his wand between his fingers._

 _"Shut up, Harry!" Ron's stomach grumbled loudly, as though they had forgotten it existed and it wished to make its presence known. "Maybe we should just…try Summoning it?" Ron cringed and locked his arms firmly around his midriff._

 _"Oh ya, sure Ron," Harry scoffed. "I'll just…shout a nice Accio Resurrection Stone and…" Harry flinched as the stone hurtled into his raised hand and nearly dropped it in shock._

 _"Holy shit." Ron gasped._

* * *

 _Narcissa Malfoy stared at the missive in her shaking hands and willed the tears to still. She recognised the elegant scrawl of her son. She was tempted to break the seal and scour the words, yet she refrained. Her upbringing wouldn't allow her to commit such atrocities._

 _Instead, she approached Harry Potter after yet another pointless Order gathering. She tired of their ridiculous banter and while she knew strides were being made to end the war, it simply wasn't fast enough for her tastes. She wanted to see her son, yet such things could not occur until the Dark Lord was vanquished._

 _"What is it Cissa?" Harry propped his head on his hand and drummed his fingers on the table._

 _"You've an owl. It arrived while you were ensconced with Minister Shacklebolt. It's…it's from my Draco." Narcissa struggled to set it by his elbow and held it against her chest for a moment._

 _Harry tore the delicate parchment in his haste and Narcissa scrutinised his eyes scour the letter. She held her breath when he pushed it toward her. She didn't read it immediately. She needed more than her son's words. She desperately ached for the tiniest sliver of good news, but Harry's eyes were filled with sadness._

 _"Hermione will want to see this," Harry looked away from the forlorn mother and wiped the tear from the corner of his green eyes._

 _"Is there no hope then?" Narcissa's voice quavered yet her chin jutted forward in aristocratic fortitude._

 _"I-I don't know," Harry exhaled. "There's always hope I suppose. We wouldn't have come this far without it. Whoever would have thought Hermione would return with Zabini and pregnant no less? Whoever would have thought Luna Lovegood would dispatch the last horcrux?" Harry lowered his gaze and brushed his fingertips along Narcissa's entwined hands. "Whoever would have thought Draco Malfoy would be willing to sacrifice himself for us?"_

 _Narcissa's strangled sob plucked at his heartstrings, but Harry knew it wasn't the time wallow in misery. There would be plenty of time later to reflect upon the sacrifices made. Now was the time to rise and do what must be done._

 _As for Narcissa Malfoy, she stalked from the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with her chin held high. She didn't brush away the tears streaking down her cheeks. She stepped into the Floo with her bright blue eyes closed against the inquisitive glances._

 _"The Burrow," her clear voice shook and she was gone in a cloud of bright green flames._

 _She stepped in the great room and covered her trembling lips with a shaky palm. For the first time in her life, Narcissa didn't brush the soot from her sombre grey robes. She felt the streaks of black were currently fitting to the heaviness of her heart._

 _She was thankful the Burrow was relatively quiet. As she peeked through the back door, she spied Luna gaily laughing as she chased James. She ached with memories of her only son doing the same when he was small. She wondered if she would see his child grow but quickly pushed such thoughts away._

 _"Cissa?" Arthur approached her warily._

 _"Not now, Arthur."_

 _She shook her head and dislodged the shimmering diamond clasp. Her blonde hair fell down her back as the clasp clattered to the floor and she did not retrieve it. Instead, she took a long, deep breath and ascended the steps that would lead her to Hermione Granger._

 _The door to the bedchamber was closed and Narcissa did not knock. She twisted the handle and stepped into the darkened room. The affection she felt toward the Muggleborn had only increased tenfold when the girl had returned._

 _They had spent hours upon hours dissecting every word, every action, every breath Draco had shared with Hermione. Narcissa knew there was much they hadn't discussed by only by the blatant blush upon the girl's cheeks. She was thankful for the scraps of information and held them close._

 _"Hermione?"_

 _Hermione mumbled in her sleep and drew the afghan over her head. She wasn't ready to face the day, let alone visitors. She hadn't conversed much upon her return, but it hadn't stopped Harry or Ron from peppering her with questions she never answered._

 _"Go 'way," she grunted._

 _"I haven't come to tempt you with freshly baked morsels or bore you with idle conversation. Draco managed to send a letter to Harry Potter. Mr Potter insisted it was shared with you." Narcissa sat primly on the red and gold plaid armchair set at Hermione's bedside and pursed her lips._

 _Hermione nearly leapt from the bed in her haste to rid herself of the excess blankets. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright for the first time in ages. She blinked quickly and her left hand dropped to the obvious bulge beneath her nightdress._

 _"Y-you're serious?" Hermione shoved her riotous curls from her face and twisted them into a misshapen bun._

 _Narcissa simply placed the parchment in Hermione's lap. She didn't trust her voice to convey the words properly without being reduced to pathetic sobs. She folded her hands in her lap and waited._

 _Hermione paused as her child tumbled about and winced from the force of it. She was a slight witch and while she had been steadily gaining weight since her release from captivity, it wasn't nearly enough. Her fingertips gently touched Draco's scrawl and suddenly, she was afraid._

 _"Would you…like me to read it to you?" Narcissa's kind smile didn't reach her eyes, nevertheless, the gesture was appreciated._

 _Hermione's Gryffindor courage would not allow her to baulk. She knew it might very well be the last time she received a word from Draco. Her fingers wrenched open the parchment and she was forced to pause due to the gathering of tears in her eyes that blurred the words._

 _'Potter. I never thought I'd be writing to you under these circumstances. I never thought these circumstances would exist and yet, here we are. I've done something incredibly stupid, but I'd bet my last galleon your lot would call it ridiculously brave._

 _'If you're reading this, good old Riddle is residing within me. I've offered myself up, Potter. If I'm correct concerning my assumptions, he's trapped in me. This is your chance. Don't muck it up this time, all right? I can't do anything more. I'm hoping against hope this owl finds you. If it doesn't, it's all for nought and that is unacceptable._

 _'I'm removing the wards from the Manor. It'll take me a bit. It's centuries worth of enchantments, I'm sure you understand. You have better killed that fucking snake, Potter. It all rests on you now and I can't begin to tell you how much I hate that. Be the fucking Chosen One and end this, you ponce. Fuck off now. I've got things to say to Granger.'_

 _Hermione laughed and cried as she read his words and Narcissa was alarmed. Personally, she felt her son was crass, but it seemed the Muggleborn witch's opinion differed._

 _'I should have told you, Granger. I'm not going to apologise. I'm not sorry, I just wish you knew. I wish you could hear me utter the words rather than just read them. I really did you a disservice, didn't I?_

 _Don't cry for me. Don't lie and say you're not crying, I know you are. Fuck, you've just left and it's taking everything in me to remain still. I nearly regret remaining behind, nearly._

 _'I felt it, at least there's that much. I'm not a brave man, Granger, but I can pretend. For you, I can pretend. You're the reason I'm doing this. I was content to waste away to nothing, but you fucking changed everything._

 _I don't expect I'll see you again and I hate it. I hate that I won't be there to see our child be born, to watch him grow up. Just promise me this much, don't…don't name him after me. Yes, I'm positive the child will be a boy. It's tradition. Don't saddle him with my legacy. Don't allow my mother to interfere. Promise me._

 _'Gods, you're going to be a wonderful mother. I wish I could see it. Remember me sometimes, not all the time. I don't want you to be sad forever, I'm not quite that selfish. Sometimes, when the morning breaks and the sun is gently kissing the horizon, remember me then. Be happy._

 _I love you, Granger. You were right. We could have had an amazing life, but something's got to give to end this blasted War. Tell my mother I'm sorry.'_

 _"I promise. I promise. I promise," Hermione whispered until the words jumbled together into nothingness._

 _Hermione clutched the dampened parchment to her chest with one hand as she gripped Narcissa's hand with the other. Arthur found them hours later with dried tears on their cheeks. He settled an afghan over them and let them be. It was the least he could do._

* * *

 _"Are you certain, Mr Potter?" Kingsley Shacklebolt was exceedingly weary and the toll of the ongoing War showed in the creases in his dark face._

 _"This is it. Everyone is always telling me I've got to trust those around me…" Harry shrugged._

 _"Yes, but…are you certain Mr Malfoy would…" Kingsley gestured toward the gathering of Order members and Harry followed his gaze._

 _It wasn't the largest group he'd ever seen, but he'd gone into battle with less. They had lost many, but they had also gained. There was something inherently pleasing to see the smattering of Slytherin amongst the ranks. It seemed they were just as desperate to end the darkness as everyone else._

 _"If you had asked me that question seven years ago, the answer would be very different. You've heard Hannah's testimony. You've eavesdropped as Hermione waxed poetic and she's not the sort of witch who is easily fooled. He loves her. He might hate us, but he loves her and that's why we're going."_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt considered Harry's words carefully. He hadn't an argument. There was nothing left for them to lose. Every single member of The Order of the Phoenix was willing to lay down their lives to defeat the darkest wizard they had ever encountered. It was out of his hands and he willing passed the honour to Harry Potter._

 _"As you wish." Kingsley bowed and turned toward the nervous group of witches and wizards._

 _"Wands at the ready!" Harry shouted and waited until the first group Apparated before he followed._

 _Harry Potter walked through the iron gates of Malfoy Manor with his wand tightly held in a clenched fist. His teeth grit together in determination and he didn't spare a glance to the few Order members by his side. He gulped noisily and marched toward the Manor in the distance._

 _"We're with you, Harry." Ron Weasley's voice made Harry cringe._

 _He hadn't wanted them to come, not any of them. He wanted to walk into this alone, but he had been overruled. He understood their dedication and their need to see it finished, but he didn't want anyone else to die._

 _Luna had called him a chauvinistic pig when he had stashed her wand. Narcissa hadn't put up much of a fight and vowed to stay with Hermione. It wasn't much, but it was something. At least Harry knew the mother of his child and his proverbial sister was safe._

 _Harry wondered if Bill regretted asking Fleur to remain behind. The barrage of angry French was enough to keep Harry from asking. There were moments when Fleur reminded him of Molly, but he kept such thoughts to himself. He didn't imagine either of them being particularly happy about the similarities, but he liked to imagine Molly was proud of all of them as they walked into death._

 _"Death Eaters!"_

 _Harry flinched at the shout, but all he could see were Weasleys. He took a moment to shake his head before he returned to the task at hand. With Arthur and Bill charging into the fray, Harry knew they'd be safe._

 _Harry ascended the steps leading to the impressively tall door of the Manor with his blood pulsing in his ears. Absently, he stuck his hand into his pocket and fingered the stone. It was uncustomary of him to put such faith in anyone other than Hermione, but his choices were limited. He hoped to Merlin it worked. If it didn't, well, he didn't wish to be the wizard that was forced to deliver the news to Hermione Granger._

 _The door creaked open before he could lay hands upon it. He thrust his shoulders back and pretended he could feel the presence of his parents. Such things had comforted him once and he wasn't against utilising them again._

 _The Manor was eerily silent and the dark hairs on the back of his neck stood. Harry crept through the foyer on alert for the slightest motion. He barely remembered the way to the drawing room but felt it was fitting to begin his search there._

 _"Harry Potter," The ominous voice hissed, yet it sounded empty. It didn't have near enough muted rage to have much of an effect on Harry._

 _"Tom, it's good to see you." Harry Potter's confidence was always extraordinary and this time it was no different._

 _"Still an insolent child." The wizard smirked and Harry found it off-putting._

 _"Perhaps, but at least I can say I'm standing here of my own volition. You can't say that really. I mean, could you stand without stealing someone else's body, or would you just sort of hover like all the other ghosts?" Harry crossed his arms as he winked at his adversary._

 _"Power is power, Potter. Have you come to bore me with endless diatribes concerning the power of love? While I am quite fond of Dumbledore's favourite solution, I like to believe we've moved passed things." Voldemort lazily waved Draco Malfoy's hand in the air, facetiously asking Harry to continue._

 _"There are no more horcruxes, Tom. It's just you and me now."_

 _Harry watched as Voldemort's face contorted in what could only be described as excruciating pain. His wand wavered and Harry surged forward, prepared for anything. He paused as a pale palm rose._

 _"Get on with it, Potter." Draco Malfoy pushed through the oozing darkness littering his soul to communicate._

 _"I hate it when he does that!" Lord Voldemort roared and Harry slowly backed away. "I'm aware of the Prophecy just as you are, Harry. Neither can live while the other survives and all that nonsense. Have you come to end me once more? It didn't work quite so well for you last time, did it?" The Dark Lord snickered and held his wand on Harry Potter._

 _Harry's eyes narrowed in silent concentration. He could hear the spells being fired on the grounds. He had faith that the Order could corral the remaining strangling Death Eaters. He focused on the internal battle being fought within Draco Malfoy and with a last breath, he withdrew the stone from his pocket._

 _Tom Riddle's gaze broke from Harry's as the Resurrection Stone sailed toward his head. It was instinct to catch it and he stared at it in wonder. He had been ever so close to it once before, yet it was Harry fucking Potter who had stolen it from him._

 _"A gift, Potter?" The low timbre of Tom's voice was disconcerting, as was the façade of happiness in the red-rimmed eyes._

 _Harry decided he wasn't fond of Draco Malfoy's lips stretching into a sinister smile and shrugged. "It isn't for you."_

 _Draco struggled up to the surface for a moment, and Harry could see the clarity in the resigned grey eyes. Harry nodded in relief when Draco shoved the stone into the pocket of his slacks._

 _"Do it, Potter." Draco's voice hissed between clenched teeth as he struggled for control._

 _He shuddered and pretended he didn't feel the presence behind him. Draco observed Harry do absolutely nothing and it was infuriating. He didn't know how much longer he was capable of keeping Voldemort suppressed but he didn't imagine he could last more than a few moments. He stroked the stone in his pocket and wished he could see her one last time._

 _"She'll hate me forever." Harry shook his head slowly and looked as though he was lowering his wand._

 _"Son," Lucius Malfoy's voice whispered in Draco's ear. "I'm with you."_

 _Draco was absolutely positive his mind was playing tricks on him. It was entirely possible. He had spent weeks at the mercy of a madman. It didn't much matter that this particular madman spent most of his time painting trees and cursing them. Draco had been privy to Voldemort's innermost thoughts and that was enough to drive anyone mad._

 _"Maybe, but she'll live," Draco's head dropped with the realisation he would never see Hermione again._

 _He could feel Lord Voldemort internally slashing at his bonds. He flinched away from the tremendous groundswell of love that coursed through his borrowed body. The undeniable fact it was love for filth only exacerbated the situation and his determination to regain control reared its ugly head, but it was too late._

 _Harry wrestled internally. The fire within him to finally end Voldemort had been snuffed out. He had seen more than a person his age should ever have to see. He had watched his friends and loved ones fall, and yet nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to knowingly ending the innocent, for the sake of the greater good. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, nodded and raised his wand, while Draco Malfoy closed his eyes, content to know the end had finally come, and his love was safe._

 _"Avada Kedavra."_

* * *

 _The silence in the Wizarding World was deafening after the final defeat of Tom Riddle. In their eyes, he no longer required the title of Lord Voldemort, and they refused to refer to him as such. It was a breath of fresh air, really, but the grief within the community held strong._

 _There weren't shouts of jubilation. There weren't celebratory parties. There were funerals. A seemingly endless parade of funerals, amidst a sea of black._

 _Harry Potter forced one foot in front of the other. His heart was near to bursting with regret. He knew there wasn't a choice in the matter. He knew he did exactly what he was supposed to do, and yet for the first time in his life, he hated himself._

 _He swallowed hard as he ascended the creaking steps that led to Hermione Granger's bedchamber. The tears pricked the corners of his eyes and his hands shook as he turned the door handle. He hadn't the words and Harry didn't know how he was going to tell her._

 _He pushed open the door and held his breath. Hermione was propped on a seemingly endless pile of feather pillows and Narcissa sat at her side. They looked to him with hopeful eyes and he choked on the bile lodged in his throat._

 _"No," Hermione whispered and Harry cursed his expressive face._

 _She had always known him best and it was the first time he regretted their closeness. Harry was incapable of lying to her. He stepped into the room and hated the sun for shining so brightly._

 _"Hermione," Harry's voice cracked and Narcissa clamped both hands over her mouth._

 _"No, don't say it," Hermione shook her head so fiercely he was certain it must hurt._

 _Harry Potter stared at the ground and shuffled toward her bedside. He didn't touch her. He couldn't. His hands were no longer clean. He had murdered and hadn't the right to mar her as well. His logic was flawed, but it didn't stop his eyes from envisioning splatters of blood splashed across his palms._

 _He tuned out the shaking shoulders of Draco Malfoy's mother and concentrated on breathing. Breathing was easy, Harry could do that much. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he knew it would have to wait. The pain was too fresh and it would only cause her more distress._

 _Harry shoved his hand into the interior pocket of his torn blazer and removed a small black box. He didn't tell Hermione that he had discovered it in the front pocket of Draco's slacks. He didn't tell her that he had crawled over to his former enemy and sobbed over his body. He didn't tell her that he had opened the box and knew exactly what it contained. In fact, Harry Potter said nothing. He laid the box beside her open hand and walked away._

 _As he closed the door behind him and took a shaky breath, he closed his eyes. It was then he heard the heart-wrenching sobs of a broken witch, and he hated himself just a touch more. He didn't cringe away from the sounds of her howls and he did not comfort her._

 _Harry Potter wasn't nearly the hero he was proclaimed to be. He was simply a man who was forced into an impossible position. He was the man who was instrumental in bringing a madman to his knees, but there was no comfort in it. He had raised his wand against the one wizard who had given his life for a cause that had never accepted him. He had watched the light in his eyes go out. He had watched his body fall to the ground in an elegant heap._

 _Harry Potter had taken the life of the one man who had given all…for love._


	27. 27 - Ron

I've done things, terrible things. I'm not proud of it or anything, but I can't change it either. It's really, really difficult coming to terms with the fact that I'm not as good a person as I always thought I was. I don't really know how to describe it.

I don't have the gift of words like Hermione. Hell, I don't have half her intellect. I wish I had appreciated it when I was younger, or even at all. I wish I had appreciated anything about her. I wasn't…kind to her at all, was I? I realise that now and it weighs on me.

Harry told me there was a time when she thought I hung the moon. It must be some sort of Muggle expression but its got a wistful nature to it. I don't remember. I was so busy being concerned with myself, I didn't notice her until it was too late.

There were times, years even, when my head was filled with dreams of my future. Hermione was always by my side. We were happy. We married; we had two children. I didn't want more than that, but who could blame me?

I don't dream about it anymore. I don't focus on my imaginary daughter Rose and her reddish hair. I don't think about her brilliance as we send her off to Hogwarts. I don't imagine my son any longer either, but I had believed they were a possibility. It's silly, isn't it?

In what world would Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley be well suited to each other? She's always driven me batty. She doesn't know how to be wrong. She detests Quidditch. She loves books more than people, and I am none of those things. I don't want to be any of those things.

I know I've got a temper. I know I've got issues with being the youngest son. I know I'm not brilliant or even remotely studious. I love Quidditch almost as much as I love food.

She was always scoffing at me and rolling her eyes. I was always mocking her and to be honest, I didn't like her a bit when we were children. Sure, it changed over the years, but it also didn't.

I'm not proud of it alright? I love Hermione, but I don't love her enough. I don't love her enough to just pretend the things that drive me mad, don't drive me mad. I spent forever and a day shouting at Harry about her.

My mum was fairly certain we were written in the stars, which is stupid because we're not Malfoys or even Blacks for that matter. When my mum died, I wanted to cling to her wishes. You can't blame me for that. I wanted her to be proud of me, just once.

I'm not brave like Bill, or a Curse Breaker either. I'm not adventurous like Charlie. I'm not studious and poncy like Percy was. I'm not ingenious and funny like the twins. I'm Ron, just Ron. My only redeeming quality is the fact I'm best mates with Harry Potter. D'ya think my headstone will say that?

'Youngest Weasley son, best mate of Harry Potter.'

There's a point to this, I swear there is. I just lost it for a bit.

I love my wife. Poppy is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I wouldn't trade her for all the pumpkin pasties or Canon's games in the entirety of the world. I shouldn't have made her feel second best. I should cherish her, and I will, when I'm done feeling sorry for myself.

I'm still a bit sore over what Ginny did. She's a better person than I am as well. I mean fuck, my bloody sister, my only sister Petrified me and shoved me in the bloody larder. She ransacked the Order's Potion supplies and Polyjuiced herself.

I still think it was absolutely mad of her to do that. My sister, my only sister nearly fucking died and for what? What purpose did it serve? Ginny saved me from something I bloody well deserved, and now I'll carry that guilt with me all of my days.

She's not dead, just in case you were wondering. I fell to my knees and cried when I found out. I had never been so grateful in my entire life. I'm fairly certain I would have quickly followed her if she had died. I never would have been able to look into my father's eyes ever again. I wouldn't be able to listen to the whispers and wade through the hate. I'm weak.

"There's another owl for you." Harry shoved the rolled bit of parchment into my chest and walked away.

He's not doing well. He refuses to speak about what happened at Malfoy Manor. I'm not sure I want to know, but I will say the sound of Hermione's howls nearly made my ears bleed. I could hazard a guess and say Draco Malfoy is dead.

I feel awful about it. I didn't think I would. When I was young and stupid, I hated him more than Voldemort. I was stupid. I'm still stupid, at least now, I accept it.

I haven't spent much time with Hermione since her return. At first, I avoided her out of respect for my wife. I think Poppy still believes I still have feelings for Hermione, and I do, but not the way she thinks I do. I'm in love with my wife and that's that.

I'm trying, to be honest, but it's much more difficult than I thought it would be. I don't want to sit with Hermione. I don't want to watch her mourn the loss of bloody Malfoy. I can't reconcile the idea of Hermione and Malfoy together. It doesn't hurt me, but it does make me angry.

I know they spent years together and it's ridiculous to assume some sort of bond hadn't been forged. It's something else altogether to learn she fell in love with him. Him? He was horrid to us when we were still in Hogwarts. He was a Death Eater! He nearly…but he didn't.

I suppose that's the point. Forgiveness and all that rot. Malfoy didn't kill Dumbledore. Almost doesn't count or some shite. I still feel betrayed, which is my problem. I'm aware, thanks!

Ginny told me I should learn to be more accepting. She's not wrong. My own father has shacked up with a Slytherin. I still can't quite wrap my head around that. Arthur Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy snogging. It makes my lunch wish to make a reappearance, so I avoid them as much as possible.

I nearly forgot the letter. Like I said, I'm stupid. I don't know how anyone puts up with me. What the hell am I supposed to do with myself now? The War is…over. It's finally over. What purpose do I serve if I'm not Harry Potter's Sidekick? Yeah, I don't know either.

"Stop avoiding Hermione, you wanker."

Well, isn't that lovely? My sister was never one to mince words. Rude little thing, isn't she? She's not wrong. I suppose the least I could do is take a peek at Hermione before she has her son.

Hermione's going to be a mum. I think that scares me more than Voldemort or even Ginny's Bat-Bogey-Hex. I bet he'll be brilliant. He'd have to be with her for a mum. I hope he doesn't look like Malfoy, but I bet he does.

There's something to be said for generations of Pureblood ancestry, even if they are inbred. I'm sorry, that was obnoxious, but it was also true. Hermione broke generations of tradition and part of me hopes Lucius Malfoy is rolling around in his grave. Well, as long as he doesn't haunt anyone. Blech.

Grimmauld Place is eerily silent. The remaining members of the Order have returned home and I miss all the noise. There really was no point in them hanging about. I bet they were fairly relieved to be able to return home. I've stayed, but I don't really have a home.

I know I'm welcome at the Burrow. I grew up there after all, but with Dad and Narcissa shacking up, it doesn't feel the same. I wonder if my brothers feel the same way I do.

"Harry?" I finally managed to get my lazy arse out of my bedchamber.

It took a bit to find Harry, but I probably should have checked the garden first. Harry was obsessed with guarding the entrance to the tunnel. He won't explain why, but there's no surprise there. He hasn't been particularly communicative since ending Voldemort.

"It's so quiet," Harry whispered.

"I know." I sat beside him on the stone bench and waited for him to continue. I had learned to be a good listener.

"I don't mean in the house, Ron. I mean in my head. He was always there. He was always whispering. I didn't realise it until it was gone. I had…grown used to the sound. I don't miss him nor the craziness that came with it. It's just difficult to adjust I suppose." Harry rubbed his scar and for the first time in years, he didn't wince.

"I imagine," I paused and stared at the blue in the sky for a moment. "After Mum died the Burrow was eerily quiet. She wasn't chasing us around with her spoon. She wasn't demanding we degnome the garden. She wasn't smacking me for stealing vittles from her pot. I know it's not the same as having some crazy arse whispering in your head and saying vile things, but I imagine the silence bit isn't all that different." I didn't know what else to say to him, but I supposed it was the right thing as Harry hugged me tight.

"Thanks, mate, I needed that. Now get your arse upstairs and speak with Hermione." Harry bumped my shoulder and suddenly we were smiling.

"She's not there any longer," Luna interrupted us and I was thoroughly distracted by her purple and orange geometric dress. It nearly blinded me.

"What? Where did she go?" Harry stood up and I nearly toppled from the bench.

"Hmm, Cissa was discussing the Malfoy Cottage, but I can't be certain. She had a row with Arthur you see and the Cottage was thrown about as a viable option. I went to tend Jamie and when I looked back, they were gone." Luna was always a bit dodgy I thought, but Harry seemed to like her loads more than he liked my sister.

I don't know where Malfoy Cottage is. I don't know why my dad and bloody Narcissa had a row. I don't much care either. I'm trying to be accepting, but it's really hard. She's just so different from my mum, I don't really understand how my dad can love her. I feel betrayed, but I am smart enough to know it's none of my business.

"Ron?" There's my girl.

"I'm here, Poppy."

Our relationship has been strained as of late, but that's my fault too. I say stupid things quite frequently. She puts up with me, which is more than Hermione did. I'm not comparing them, I swear I'm not! It's just fact.

Poppy is the sort of woman that will smack me in the head if I'm being unreasonable. Hermione was the sort of woman that would silently simmer and when you least expect it, set carnivorous birds to rip you limb from limb. Yes, I'm exaggerating. I'm still scarred from that experience, I'm allowed to exaggerate.

My wife reminds me of my mum. She doesn't coddle me or anything. I mean it in the sense that just her presence is really comforting. She doesn't push me when I don't want to have a conversation. She just waits and is…there. I don't know how to explain it properly, alright?

"How would you feel if your dad didn't live at the Burrow anymore?"

See, I know she has an agenda. I know she's going to pepper me with questions and I'm going to answer them and come to some sort of life altering realisation. It doesn't bother me when she does it. I think that bit has to do with the fact that she doesn't treat me like I'm stupid. She doesn't treat me like I'm just a periphery person. I matter to her and I need to matter dammit.

"Well, I think I'd be sad about it at first," I sighed into her when she hugged me from behind. "I grew up there and all. We all did, but at the same time,…all of our memories surround my mum and she's gone. It'd sort of be like holding onto her and dad's with Narcissa now."

I felt Poppy nod against my back. I liked the way she fit in my arms. I liked the way she always smelled like fresh laundry and something floral. She was good for me and I could only hope that I was good for her as well.

"I wouldn't mind living at the Burrow," Poppy whispered into my cotton shirt and her words were muffled. "I think your dad is going to go after Narcissa. It's been years and it's time for him to let your mum go. He deserves to be happy."

"I know, you're right. Would you really wanna live here?"

She'd never mentioned wanting anything more a bedchamber at Grimmauld Place and my old room at the Burrow. I wasn't aware we were in a place to start building a life of our own. I mean, we probably should.

The world is in the midst of getting back on its feet and we're lagging behind. I stepped into Diagon Alley recently and it was ridiculously crowded. It made me really resentful and I didn't stay long. Where the fuck were they when we needed them? Hiding away apparently, but now that everything is coming up daisies, there they are. Bastards.

"A simple room isn't going to do us for much longer," Poppy wiped her cheek on my shirt and I frowned.

"Why not? We don't need much space" I shrugged and managed to tug her around to my front.

"You are adorably dense, Ronald Bilius Weasley," Poppy pushed away from me and with her hands on her hips and her legs akimbo, she really reminded me of my mum. "We're having a baby, you idiot."

I couldn't have heard her properly. There's absolutely no way I could be having a child. I'm Ron, Ron Weasley. I'm not a father. I'm a bit dim and I am quite fond of a shag, but a dad? No, she wasn't talking about us having a baby. I must have missed a word or six.

"Wh-what? I couldn't have…" I laughed, which was one hundred percent wrong. "I thought you said we were having a baby, but I couldn't have heard you right."

The pain. I can't begin to tell you about the pain. I was wrong. Poppy and Hermione have violent tendencies and it seems the violence is always heaped upon me. I don't know how her tiny hands inflicted so much damage, but they did.

Then she drew her wand and I'll admit it. I ran. I fucking ran. She chased me, and the language! I didn't know my Poppy even knew half the words she was shrieking at me.

Harry wasn't a bit of help. He was busy doing randy sorts of things with Luna. I could hear his laughter all the way into the garden. I didn't think, I just moved as quickly as my feet would carry me.

The entrance to the tunnels was still open and I raced down those steep steps so quickly, I nearly fell. I did fall at the bottom and slid along the slick wet ground. Everything hurt, but I couldn't stop moving, not yet. It wasn't safe.

"Ronald Weasley! You come out of there right now!" I could barely see Poppy at the top as the sun was setting and it was really dark inside the actual tunnel.

"No! I won't!"

I was being a child, but she wanted to do me bodily harm! I had to protect myself. I can't much say I like the dark. Do you know what sorts of things hide in the dark? No? Well, I'll tell you.

Spiders. Spiders hide in the dark with their creepy crawly bodies and their webs. The tunnel was definitely prime breeding ground for spiders. I had a choice. I could face my wife or brave the spiders. I'm not an utter and complete fool. I chose the spiders obviously.

She didn't follow me. I'm thankful for that. It's scary in the tunnel. I mean, she could slip and fall. That would be terrible, especially for the baby.

Holy shite. I'm going to have a baby. Well, not me obviously. That would be impossible and I think sort of painful considering girl parts and boy parts are just…I'm going to stop talking about it now.

"Shh, I hear something."

I knew that voice. Why was anyone down here? I thought the tunnels were open because…well, I don't know, but I thought there was a reason. Why would the Minister for Magic be in this spider infested barrel of hell? More to the point, who would be down here with him?

I didn't like this. I didn't like this at all. I probably should have gone directly back to Grimmauld Place and dragged Harry down here with me. Of course, I would have to deal with Poppy first. Afterwards, I'd probably forget what I was doing, so it's best I remained.

I hugged the wall and cringed as slimy water ran down my back. Something ran across my face and it took every ounce of willpower not to run screaming for freedom. My mum always said I was too curious for my own good. She was right. Gods, was she right.

"No, there's nothing. I didn't mean to frighten you. We should transport you elsewhere. Look, I don't care about the magicks. You've got to…fine. I'm not going to argue with you. It's your life."

I could only make out one side of the conversation. I mean I knew there was someone else, but the other voice was so low and raspy I couldn't discern anything more than sounds. It sort of reminded me of when Harry spoke Parseltongue.

Oh, the hell with this! What if there was another fucking basilisk down there? I could be eaten! All it's had to subsist itself on is fucking spiders! They've not got much to them.

I was a sweaty fucking mess by the time I reached the top step. I landed on the grass in a big pile of Ron. I closed my eyes and inhaled so deeply I'm fairly certain I got some grass and insects up my nose. I didn't even care. I was safe.

"Ron!" Poppy was running toward me and she was crying and I felt like an arse.

I couldn't even pick up my head and look at her proper. I just laid there and thanked Merlin the basilisk hadn't eaten me. Stop looking at me like that. It could have been a basilisk. You don't know.

She sat down next to me and yanked my head into her lap. It wrenched my neck a bit, but I wasn't about to complain. I just looked up at her and I felt as though my heart beat for the first time.

"I love you,"

I didn't tell her nearly enough, but it seemed to do the trick. Not that it was a trick or anything. She just didn't seem angry with me any longer is all.

I really needed to speak with Harry. I needed him to set me straight. I needed him to go down there and see it for himself. I needed to know it wasn't all in my head, but then he was standing over me and he was angry.

"Why'd you go in there, Ron?"

Harry was really fucking angry and his anger wasn't usually directed at me. I didn't like it at all. In fact, he was scaring me a little and the fact he wand was pointed directly at my face didn't help matters at all.

"I-I was just…you see, it wasn't…I mean," I stammered and Harry didn't lower his wand.

"Harry, breathe. Ron was slightly overwhelmed with the news of his impending fatherhood is all," Poppy reached up and pushed Harry's wand away from the general vicinity of my face and I managed to sit up.

"Oh, I see. Well, that's alright then. Congratulations," Harry gave us a curt nod and marched inside.

Something was wrong. In order for me to notice something is actually wrong, it must really be amiss. I can't tell you how glad I am Poppy gifted me a word a day calendar. It makes me sound smarter than I am.

"I'll be right back," I kissed Poppy's cheek and hugged her tight before I followed after Harry.

I heard him stomping his way up the stairs and gave chase. I think I deserved answers. My best mate was losing his mind and he was a bit scary. The War was over, wasn't it? Why was he still silent and brooding?

"Go away, Ron," Harry tried to shut the door to Sirius Black's old room, but I stood in the way.

"Harry, what's going on? You can talk to me, you know that right?" I held my hands out to show him I hadn't any intention of reaching for my wand and he still bristled.

"Look, it's not for me to say. Just stay the fuck away from the tunnels. Don't even mention the fact you went down there. You have no bloody idea…" he growled.

"Of course I don't. You haven't told me. No one's told me much of anything. If you just explained it to me, maybe I could…"

"You can't help, Ron! Leave it alone. I swear to…if you go down there again, I can't be held accountable for what will happen to you," Harry sneered quite nastily and I frowned.

"Are you…are you threatening me, Harry?" I stumbled backwards and I'm sure my mouth gaped open.

"No, it's not a threat. I can't tell you anything. I am literally incapable of telling you that.." Harry's face scrunched in pain and I understood.

"You're under The Vow," I hissed.

I stepped into his room and slammed the door. It was easy enough to ward the door from eavesdroppers. With Fred and George as my brothers, you learn those sorts of things relatively quickly.

"Just keep your mouth shut. Don't make me Obliviate you," Harry's anger seemed to dissipate, but it was replaced with incredible sadness.

"You'd do that to me?"

"It's not up to me, not anymore."

Harry turned away from me and I watched him go. The washroom door clicked shut and I just stood there. Something nefarious was afoot. I was curious, but at the same time, I didn't want to be Obliviated.

I was scared.


	28. 28 - Harry

_Once more The Boy Who Lived has rescued the Wizarding World from the depths of despair. We here at the Daily Prophet have it on good authority that Harry Potter wishes to avoid the impending discussions of his heroics. How can that be? Without Harry Potter and his entourage, surely we would be grovelling at the feet of the now deceased Tom Riddle._

I was tired. I didn't want to see my name splashed across the front pages of the Daily Prophet. I didn't want to be forced to wear my dad's invisibility cloak in order to grab a bloody cup of tea in Diagon Alley, but that's what's happened.

It's disgusting the way they flock to me now. Where the fuck were they then? Where were they when our numbers were drastically low? Where were they when we needed their support?

I'll tell you. They were hiding. They were hidden away in their family chateaus, villas, private fucking islands. It wasn't just the Slytherins either. It was all of them.

They ripped me apart when I was a child and I allowed it. I couldn't have done anything about it then, but now I'm an adult and they're lauding me? Fucking hypocrites. I can't abide to look at them. Hell, I can't stand to look at myself. Godric knows Hermione can't bear to look at me either and I don't blame her.

I don't know what else I was supposed to do, but I should have done something. There had to have been something I overlooked, but how was I to know without her? She wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to help me with anything. I'm fucking useless without her. There. I've said it.

"How is she?" Andromeda was a great source of comfort. She just sort of eased into Molly's role and I appreciated the mothering aspect.

"I don't know. I tried to talk to her. I tried to explain. She listened a bit and begged me to stop. Then she asked me to leave and she's refused to speak with me again. I don't know what else to do."

I held my head in my hands and closed my eyes. It didn't last long. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Draco Malfoy begging me to end him. Then, of course, I saw Hermione's big brown eyes pleading with me. I couldn't escape any of it.

"She'll come around eventually, Harry. She just needs some time." Andromeda gave me a quick half hug. "I needed time after…Nymphadora and Remus."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sure having Teddy helped. I mean you couldn't spend all day in bed with a newborn to tend." I sighed and thumped my forehead against the kitchen table.

"You'd be surprised."

She didn't say anything more and when I lifted my head, she was gone. She gave me loads to think about really. I consider Andromeda Tonks to be one of the strongest witches I've ever known. She lost her husband. She lost her only child. She lost her son-in-law and yet still she's managed to raise Teddy.

He's a happy, healthy, well-adjusted child. I still can't believe I'm his Godfather. I must admit that being around Teddy has helped me to be a better father. I'm a dad. I still can't wrap my head around it and sometimes I forget.

"You're thinking about him again," Luna. I'm so glad I have her.

It eases the sting of Ginny. That came out wrong. Luna isn't a replacement for Ginny, that's not what I meant. I loved Ginny, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't enough. I knew she loved me more than I loved her and I should have ended things long before I did. I shouldn't have continued the relationship knowing that my feelings didn't run as deep. I shouldn't have proposed to her. I shouldn't have a lot of things.

"I can't help it," I smiled and Luna sat on my lap without invitation, I might add.

I haven't been untoward with her, despite her offers of uhm sexual favours. I'm sorely tempted, but at the same time, I feel as though it's too soon. I rushed into something with Ginny and look how well that turned out? I don't want to make the same mistakes, especially where the mother of my child is concerned.

"I think I'd like to get married in a field of daisies," Luna bit my ear and I jumped. "Perhaps over the summer. He should be back by then. It could be lovely. How does that sound, Harry?" She shoved her hand between our bodies and stroked the growing bulge in my slacks.

"Uhm yeah, sure, sounds great," I don't know what the fuck I've just agreed to and I don't care as long as she keeps touching me.

"Do you remember how hard you fucked me against the wall after Slughorn's party?" Her voice was breathy and filled with desire.

Whatever I said before, I take it back. It's not too soon. It's never too soon as long as both parties are consenting adults and sweet mother of Merlin my cock was out in the kitchen.

"L-Luna…" I gasped.

"Shh, Andromeda took Jamie with her and I'm tired of waiting for you to figure things out." Luna straddled me and stared down at me as she sunk down onto me.

I had forgotten how fucking good it could be. It was like coming home. It was hot and fast, hard and heavy and I'm fairly certain we broke things. Doesn't matter. There's nothing like a good Reparo to put everything back into tiptop shape.

I forgot how good her arse felt in my hands. I forgot the little breathy sounds she made that turned into shrieks with a good hard thrust. I forgot the way her fingernails scraped down my back and the sting of sweat in the rivulets. I forgot the taste of her lips and the way her pale breasts bounced. I forgot the way she fucking begged me.

"Harder, harder, yes just like that. Pull my hair. Slap my arse," Luna ground into me and damn she was a demanding witch.

I don't know how we managed to get on top of the table, but we did. Plates crashed to the ground, cups clattered, and all I could hear, all I could see was Luna. I don't know how I went so long without her. I'm such an idiot.

"Sounds like Little Potter is having a jolly good time, Fred," George interrupted and if I had to guess he just stood there and watched, but I couldn't stop.

"I'm more impressed with Lovegood's acrobatics," Fred chuckled.

"It isn't little," Luna grunted and then her toes curled.

Her head struck the table as her body arched. The sounds that escaped her lips were the sexiest things I'd ever heard. Despite the audience, which seemed to intrigue Luna, I spilt into her as she clenched around me. It's the best feeling in the world, trust me.

I wasn't even embarrassed. I was entirely too busy watching Luna catch her breath. I needed to see it and then it was there. Her smile was the sunshine on a cloudy day. The blush on her cheeks was simply a sign of her satisfaction and I wanted to shag her again. Preferably alone.

"It's time isn't it?" Luna sat up slowly and I wanted her to hurry and dress, but she just sat there.

At least Fred and George had enough sense to avoid looking at her delectable pink nipples as they stared straight at the wall. Well, since they weren't looking anyway, they couldn't judge me for tasting them. I might have moaned. I can't recall.

"Not sure, Lovegood. Hermione's at the Burrow and screaming loads," Fred coughed. "She's shouting for Zabini. Haven't any idea where he is, so we figured Harry was a safe bet."

I'd never dressed so fast in my life and that's saying a lot. I nearly caught myself in the zip of my slacks. Luna lazily thrust her arms through her blouse and I was still a bit enamoured, to be honest. If Fred and George hadn't been present, I probably would have dragged her straight to bed. I'm not even ashamed to admit it.

"Fred, George, would you mind venturing to a Muggle pub for me?" Luna wiggled into her knickers and slipped on her skirt.

"Why?" George asked.

"Blaise has taken to frequenting them. He's having difficulties adjusting to post-War normalcies." She placed a slip of paper into Fred's hand and dragged me to the back door. "Don't pay any mind to the horrible things she'll say. I won't even tell you how many times I cursed your name when I was having James."

"Wait, are you…are you saying Hermione's giving birth?" I was instantly filled with anxiety and it didn't abate when Luna nodded happily. "How, I mean, I didn't realise she was…I mean."

"Cissum suspected Hermione was further along, but they're not really on speaking terms. Cissum's being slightly…overbearing and it's driven Hermione mad. I'm terribly glad I don't live at the Burrow anymore." Fred faux shuddered and before I could say anything, the twins Disapparated.

I really hated when they did that. You'd think the novelty would wear off eventually, but not for them. I hoped for their sake they didn't Apparate directly into Muggle London. The amount of Obliviators that would be needed for such a stunt would be astronomical and Kingsley already has his hands full.

I didn't want to be here. I mean, I did when we first arrived. I've changed my mind now. I'm allowed to do that. I didn't need to be here. I wasn't wanted, but I couldn't leave either. If she changed her mind, I wanted to be close.

I spent most of my time in the garden, but it didn't block out the sounds of her screams. I could hear her sobbing and the guilt was overwhelming. He should be here. He should be holding her hand. He should be wiping her forehead with a cool damp cloth. He should be encouraging her and telling her, that he loves her, but instead…

Arthur and Ron kept me company. Of course, they were just as silent. Ron didn't even attempt to enter the house. I didn't blame him. I wish I hadn't, but Luna was insistent.

I have to say, I did enjoy the few moments I did sit with Hermione. She let me hold her hand as long as I didn't speak. My hand still throbbed with the force of her grip.

"I need a drink," Blaise stumbled into the garden and snarled at a particularly cheeky garden gnome.

"What are you doing out here? You're the only one she'll let near her! She needs you!" It was startling to hear Ron shout about Hermione's best interests.

"Oi, Weasley, Luna told me to take a breather. I have no desire to gaze upon Granger's girl bits," Blaise blanched and I didn't blame him. I definitely didn't want to see them either.

Arthur grunted and I would have been amused by the blush on his cheeks under other circumstances. I wondered how he was faring. I guess the last time a woman had been squalling during the midst of labouring a child, it had been Molly. I missed her, but nothing could compare to losing the mother of my children.

Children. I liked the idea of having another child. Though I'm not sure it was the proper time to discuss such things, or even think them. How Luna managed is beyond me. Gods, I wasn't there. I didn't even know she was pregnant. Why didn't anyone tell me? Why didn't she tell me?

Oh, that's right. Luna Lovegood is the sort of witch that thought it might interfere with my mission. She wasn't wrong. I would have been distracted and everything could have ended so much differently. It's no wonder she was able to break through Nagini's enchantments. She really is the purest soul in existence. I don't deserve her.

The silences between Ron and I are strained at best. He's behaving strangely around me, almost as though he's afraid of me. I don't blame him, I was a little…aggressive when dealing with him, but he hasn't the slightest idea what he's stumbled upon.

He could ruin everything without even trying. He could get me killed. He wouldn't even do it on purpose. All he would have to do is mention the fact I knew he had ventured into the tunnels. The Minister for Magic would be bound to end me.

We had made promises. Hell, I'm even afraid to think about what we've done. You don't understand. This is the most underhanded I've ever been and I'm not sure I can ever come back from it. There's nothing I can do about it now. What's done is done.

I can say this much. When Draco Malfoy died the protections of the passageway disintegrated. I wasn't expecting that. We weren't expecting that at all. From what I've managed to glean from Narcissa without too much suspicion, it was Lucius Malfoy's doing.

Apparently, there was a bit of Blood Magicks involved and the passageway fell under the protections of the Malfoys, but upon Draco's death, they ceased. I thought they'd pass to Narcissa, but Lucius rescinded her permissions or something. I'm a little shoddy on the details, but regardless. Narcissa is a Malfoy in name only.

Gods, she's going to kill us. I can't think about that now. It's entirely too dangerous. I've never been very good at keeping secrets. At least, I don't think I have. Have I ever had to keep a secret? I don't know. I'm a solid 'think about it, do it, worry about the repercussions later', sort of bloke.

"Harry?" I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Yeah, Ron," I tried really hard not to snarl at him and I haven't the foggiest if I succeeded, but at least he didn't flinch away from me or anything.

"D'ya think she'll let us see the baby?" He edged closer and whispered.

Now that was a really good question. I didn't know what to tell him. She wasn't nearly as put out with him as she was with me, but he's Ron. He irritates her by doing simple things, like breathing.

"I think we should leave her be. It's an emotional day for her. It would be any way I imagine, but the fact that ya know, Malfoy isn't here, well that makes it a bit worse for her." I felt really adult saying something that profound, but it was true.

"I still can't believe it. Our Hermione is going to be a mum," Ron sighed and glanced over at Poppy.

I knew he was thinking about his impending fatherhood and I didn't blame him for that. My thoughts often strayed to James. There are moments when I'm alone and I'm just whispering to myself 'I'm a dad' and it's amazing.

He's beautiful. Can a boy be beautiful? I don't know, but I think they can. He's sweet. He's gotta Slytherin streak in him, but it doesn't bother me. His laughter could keep the Dementors at bay.

I didn't know it was possible to love another human being quite so much. I'd lay down my life for him without a second thought. There it is. That moment. I think of my own parents and their willingness to sacrifice themselves for me. I finally understand it.

"Zabini!" Luna's shrill voice filled the silence and we were all startled.

We looked up at the open window and Luna looked haggard. She was waving toward Blaise and from what I surmised it was nearing time for Hermione's son to enter the world. Her grunts made me feel uncomfortable, but I imagine it was that much worse for her.

Blaise was half into his cups, but he managed to stagger to the door. He was going to need help. Perhaps if I were already there, Hermione wouldn't make me leave. I liked that idea and quickly followed him.

"Potter," Blaise hiccupped.

"Yes, that's me," I chuckled lightly and offered him a helping hand.

"I'm intoxicated," He laughed and we nearly tumbled down the stairs. "Did I tell you about my little adventure?" He leant on me heavily and I faltered under his weight. Blaise Zabini isn't exactly a small bloke.

"No, I don't think you have. Come on now, we're almost there," I propped him against the wall and took a second to recover my breath.

"I went into those horrible tunnels," He cracked his head on the wall and I swallowed hard.

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, I was tired of listening to all you Gryffindors celebrate the end of the War. Sure, it's over and whatnot, but my best mate is dead. I haven't got a speck of family left. What the fuck do I have to celebrate? Anyway, it's dark and wet down there, did you know that?" His eyes were blinking heavily and I was worried he was going to fall asleep, but I poked him sharply with my finger. "Granger mentioned missing something or other, I don't remember because of the drinks. I figured, eh I'll take a gander in the passageway."

"Did you find it?" My fingernails were digging into my palms and I could feel the pinpricks of blood seeping from the new wounds.

"Nah, but it looked as though someone had been in there. The little cave thing nearest the entrance or the exit depending on which end you're on had been used recently. I found that most interesting. It occurred to me that you and the Minister are the only ones I've known to go in there. It's very Slytherin of you both," Blaise nodded and his head dropped to his chest.

I shoved him into the nearest bedchamber with a heavy heart. This wasn't good at all. There was nothing I could do about his snooping, but I fucking told the Minister we should place some enchantments and heavily ward the tunnels. He wouldn't hear of it and now what? Ron and Zabini had been snooping. This was going to end badly.

"I can't do this," Hermione sobbed and my heart broke for her.

Her curls were pasted to her face with sweat. It was going to be a nightmare to detangle. Her nightie was plastered to her chest and her cheeks were bright red. She was breathing funny, but Luna was doing the same. I'm not going to pretend I knew what the hell was happening.

"You can, you're nearly there," Luna rubbed the small of Hermione's back and Narcissa stood at the foot of the bed.

She looked incredibly excited. It was strange to see such a wide smile on Narcissa Malfoy's picture perfect lips. She was peering between Hermione's legs and I am ever so grateful I moved away from that mess. I had absolutely no desire to see my mate's lady bits.

"He should be here and he's not. He should be here," Hermione kept chanting the words and I felt sick. "I don't want to do this without him. It isn't fair. It's not fair. Why wouldn't he come with me?"

"This isn't the time, Ms Granger," I baulked at the tone Cissa used towards Hermione. "There's no need to be quite so dramatic. You have a job to do and you'll do it. It's the rite of passage. I will help him enter the world and present him with his name and…"

"GET OUT!" Hermione grasped her knees and from the looks of it, she was pushing. "Harry, if you've ever loved me, get her OUT of here. RIGHT NOW!"

I didn't need to be asked twice. Hermione is scary when she's angry. I wasn't going to end up on her bad side, not now of all times. Honestly, Cissa could have chosen a better time to be her usual prissy self.

"Come on then, Cissa," I didn't hesitate in grasping her elbow and pushing her quite forcefully toward the door.

"This is ridiculous. I have every right to be here. It's tradition!" Narcissa struggled slightly, but never too much. It probably would have been unbecoming a Pureblood or some other such nonsense.

"Granger doesn't give a rat's arse about tradition," Zabini approached the bed with a drunken stumble and offered Hermione his hand.

As I shoved Narcissa into the corridor, I watched Hermione squeeze it and he winced. It didn't take me long to ward the door against reentry and I was hesitant to invade her space. Part of me wondered if I should step out as well, but then she was reaching for me.

"Push!" Luna wrenched open Hermione's knees and I was really, really glad I was near her head.

She broke my hand. I swear she did. I didn't know she was that strong. At least I know Zabini felt the same. We winced silently together. Perhaps there was some rite of passage for men attending births as well.

I don't know why I thought babies came into the world all pretty and clean, but trust me, they don't. It's rather disgusting actually. There's way more blood than I expected and some sort of white, sticky bogies in the creases of the squalling potato.

That's right. Newborn babies look like potatoes. Don't tell Hermione I said that. I'm rather attached to…all of me.

"Gross," Blaise muttered and the look of utter rage on Hermione's face would have made me run away if she hadn't been holding my hand so tightly.

Hermione flopped back onto the sea of pillows and held her arms out. We watched as Luna carefully wiped some of the muck off the baby's face and then there was the screaming. Gods, that child could bring down the house with the decibels of his shrieks.

"Here is your son," Luna carefully laid the baby in Hermione's arms and she cried.

Maybe there was some sort of spell cast on the room or something. I don't know, but we were all wiping our eyes. It was an emotional time.

I would have given anything to have had this sort of moment with Luna and James. I lamented the loss of Draco Malfoy, for Hermione's sake. He should have been able to see his son enter the world. He should have been able to hold her as she counted their child's fingers and toes. He should have…

"He's beautiful," I sniffled.

"He really is, isn't he?" Hermione smiled so brightly the sun had competition that day.

He looked much better now that he was cleaned up. His face was sort of smushed, but that was to be expected. I mean he had just made his way through…well, I'd rather not think about that. His hair was damp, but it looked like a light brown. Maybe he'd look like Hermione. I doubted it though, I had it on good authority those Pureblood genes were mighty strong.

"Has he got a name?" Blaise leant over the baby and I knew he was searching for traces of Malfoy in the tiny features.

Hermione smiled through the sadness in her eyes. She had chosen a name, I could tell from the set of her lips. I also knew it wasn't something she was prepared to share with us. That's alright, I could wait.

Luna wandered over to me and held my hand. She laid her head on my shoulder and sighed. She was my beacon. She would always lead me home. I really couldn't ask for more.

"Of course he has a name. I've simply decided to inform his father before anyone else," Hermione half shrugged and then she looked at me.

There was something cold and calculating in her eyes. I didn't like it. She knew something. She suspected something. This was bad. This was all bad. Hermione's eyebrows escaped into her hairline as she stared at me and I squirmed. My blood ran cold.


	29. 29 - Blaise

It was an accident. All the best stories start that way, didn't you know that? Sometimes they start with 'it was a dark and stormy night', but this wasn't one of those times. It really was an accident.

I was just wandering down Diagon Alley, minding my own business. It was really looking quite spiffy since the Dark Dick destroyed nearly everything beautiful in the world. There's still some work to be done, but it sure didn't stop anyone from walking about.

I hadn't been around so many people in such a long time, I started to feel funny. My chest got really tight. My heart was pounding really hard. My head hurt and I thought I was going to wind up face down in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. That didn't happen just in case you were concerned.

Instead, I ducked into the Leaky Cauldron. It was a safe bet. The Joke Shop was filled with children of all ages, and I barely like children as it is. At least at the pub, I could get a delicious pint or even indulge in a bottle of Ogden's Finest. The possibilities were endless and all roads led to alcohol.

I was wrong, so very wrong. The Leaky Cauldron was a mass of bodies. I didn't know Tom could move that quickly, but he was damn sure passing out those drinks faster than I could blink.

It was definitely a different sort of place. I mean, it used to be the sort of place that was considered sub-par. The War changed things let me tell you. I couldn't say there were Muggleborns and Pureblood aristocracy sharing a drink or anything, but it was almost serene.

There were still too many people for my tastes. I had spent so much time alone, I couldn't handle the crowds any longer. I knew I would adjust. I was always good at that. I just knew I needed to get out.

I leapt for the nearest door and it was like I stepped through a portal. The sights. The sounds. The strange machinery. I was enthralled and terrified at the same time. It was quite the conundrum.

I was afraid to breathe, let alone move. There were so many Muggles. It wasn't my first time amongst Muggles, but at the same time, it was a concentrated space. They just bustled about as if this entire world didn't exist behind the door of a pub.

I heard some raucous laughter and moved toward it. I had to hurry. The mechanical contraptions moved quite fast. They also made a horrible noise when I paused. There was a fair amount of shouting as well.

"Looks like this one's got a death wish," A burly bloke snickered at me and offered me some strange smoking stick.

I took it. I didn't want to be rude. I didn't know what to do with it until I watched him. It looked easy enough and then I was dying. I coughed so hard there were tears in my eyes, but I didn't like to fail. I inhaled again, a bit shallower and decided it was enjoyable.

"You're not the first bloke to come outta that building. Don't know where ya come from, but you're all a little confused. Come on, I'll buy you a drink," He patted my shoulder and pointed to a darkened pub.

Dark. I could do dark. He didn't expect me to speak and that worked for me. It wasn't much different from the Leaky. It smelled a little and the floor was sticky, but so what?

He bought me something called vodka. I didn't care for it, but it would have been rude to decline. Of course, we just kept drinking until we found something I did like.

I decided I quite liked Muggle pubs. There wasn't that tenseness. The sort that happens when the rich bump into the poor? It was nonexistent. Everyone was just there to drink and have a good time. It was perfect.

I can't give a definitive number as to the pubs I visited. In the beginning, I stuck near the Leaky because it was safe and familiar. Eventually, I wound up lost and it was wonderful.

"What'll you have?" The barkeep was surly and it reminded me of home.

"Whatever's the strongest," I learnt every barkeep had a different idea and I had sampled some fantastic spirits. I'd also vomited in alleys, but we're not going to speak about that.

"Here you go, mate," The gleam in the barkeep's eye was my favourite bit.

They always thought I'd wind up completely pissed, but Muggle spirits had nothing on firewhiskey.

"What is it?" It didn't hurt to be informed right?

"Long Island Iced Tea," He winked and walked away.

"This tastes nothing like tea. I like it," I talked to myself but there were a few chuckles nearby.

The women. I can't begin to tell you about the women. There's no such thing as robes in the Muggle world. They wear these delicious things called jeans and they hug their arse just right. I am obsessed with them.

Their dresses, if they can even be called that border on obscene. I can't even pretend they resemble anything I've ever seen. They're short. They're tight. They show more than they hide and I love them. I love them so very much.

I've got to admit, it didn't take much to cajole into a quick shag. I can't believe to tell you how much time and effort it took for a fucking snog as far as witches were concerned. They were all so prim and proper. Their fathers were on the prowl for respectable husbands and let's face it, I'm not remotely respectable.

I was a Death Eater. It doesn't matter that I was forced against my will or anything. The Ministry took such things into account, which was wonderful really. I didn't face the prospect of a dingy cell in Azkaban where I would slowly lose my mind.

I probably should have been celebrating my freedom and I was, just not in the way the Wizarding World expected me to. I didn't want to rub shoulders with them. They either pitied me or hated me and I didn't enjoy seeing either emotion splashed across their puritanical faces.

Muggles don't give a shit about me one way or another. I love that. I can wander about aimlessly and I'm barely spared a second glance. It's a completely different story when I'm stumbling down the avenue and wander into something they call traffic, but other than that, they don't care that I exist.

Have I told you how easily the Muggle women tumble into bed? It's bloody amazing. They're so sexually aware. Their inhibitions are practically nonexistent. They don't take issue with a blowie behind the pub. They'll let me explore their bits right at the fucking table.

I can't tell you the number of times I've shagged a willing blonde in the lavatory. Well, sometimes they were brunette or even redhead. I'm not particular. They were so vocal and passionate. How did I live my entire life without gazing upon a Muggle with appreciation? Yeah, I don't know either.

I must say I'm not particularly fond of their demands. They kept asking me if I was safe. Are you safe? Are you being safe? I always said yes. Hadn't the slightest idea what they were asking, but yes is always a good answer, isn't it?

Of course, this one fiery ginger didn't believe me. She insisted on shoving my rock hard cock into some sort of crinkly baggie. It numbed all my senses! She had the nerve to tell me it was completely normal. I couldn't feel her bouncing, but I must admit the sight of her tits was riveting.

All in all, it was awful. Later, Potter informed me that nasty little baggie was called a French letter. He called it something else as well, but I got a bit caught up in the history of it all. He decided I'm incredibly old fashioned and I punched his head. Anyway, apparently, Muggle men use them on regular to keep from getting a bint up the duff.

The worst part of traversing the Muggle world was fucking Potter. He just kept bloody showing up everywhere. I don't know how he found me. I don't know why he was looking for me, but I can tell you he did spoil all my fun.

"Again?" Fuck my life there he was again!

"Go away, Potter!" I just wanted to nurse the pounding in my head with another lovely Muggly mixed drink.

"Luna sent me," Potter casually sat beside me on a wobbly stool and part of me hoped he'd fall off.

"Last time she sent for me, I had to watch Granger push a human out her girlie parts," I groaned and quickly sucked down some fruity concoction.

I knew I would go. He knew I would go. I don't know why we argued about it. Perhaps we enjoyed it? I don't know, but I liked to irritate him. It was a bright spot of happiness in a haze of spirits and sex.

"Are you pissed?" Potter took my glass and sniffed it with disdain.

"No," Of course I was pissed! What the point of being alive without spending every moment completely numb?

"Are you lying?" Harry Potter glared at me, at least I think it was a glare but I must admit my eyes were rather bleary.

"Absolutely," I chortled happily, but it quickly died when I remembered I was out of drink.

I heard Potter sigh and I nearly felt bad about it. I was a bit of a pain in the arse, but then again Potter was a pain in my arse for years. The hint of guilt I almost felt wafted away on a loud belch.

"You're disgusting. Come on then, we've got to sober you up. The Minister wants to have a word."

Fuck. He sounded serious. I didn't like that, not one bit. I'm supposed to speak to the Minister when I can't even stand up straight? What's worse is he wants me sober? Gods, I think I'd rather be dead.

"I don't think I want to do that," I nearly fell off my stool, but Potter quickly grasped my elbow and shoved me into the horrible outdoors.

The sun was shining, which was strange and unexpected. It was supposed to be cloudy, gloomy, and speckled with rain. It seemed even the Universe hated me. It was entirely too bright and my eyes throbbed.

"I've got a Sobering Potion for you and from the looks of it, you need it," Potter pushed me along and it was just easier that way.

I vomited the moment I felt ground beneath my feet. A bit of the sour liquid splashed onto Potter's Muggle jeans and I wasn't sorry. He really should have warned me before he dragged me into an Apparition. I wasn't prepared for that nonsense.

"I'm in desperate need of a kip," I slurred as I wobbled on my feet.

Potter snorted with something that resembled disgust and left me in the overgrown garden. From what I could discern we were at the Burrow. It really was quite magical the way the house managed to remain aloft. Some powerful magic there.

I hadn't the slightest idea why Potter brought me there. He said the Minister wished to speak with me. I half expected to land in the bloody atrium of the fucking Ministry. Glad that hadn't happened. I probably would have vomited on someone important.

"Mr Zabini," The Minister for Magic towered over me and I swayed as I attempted to look up at him.

He was quite a big man and I wasn't what could be considered small. He didn't look unfriendly, but it was difficult to read him. He thrust out his hand and I took it, more to keep from falling over than out of a sense of etiquette.

"Minister Shackleysbolt er Shacklembolts uhm," I'd forgotten how to speak.

"Kingsley is fine, Mr Zabini," He smiled at me, sort of, I can't be sure. "Harry, perhaps now is a good time to offer Mr Zabini the Sobering Potion and Headache Tonic."

"I've half a mind to let him suffer after what he did to my trousers!" Potter shouted and my head hated him almost as much as my heart.

Regardless, he shoved the phials into my hands and I swallowed them eagerly. I always had a tendency to forget it was quite a jolt to segue from barely conscious to ridiculously awake. Can't say I'm particularly fond of the sensation. My stomach reeled and I felt the bile gathering in the back of my throat.

"Choke it back, Mr Zabini."

When the Minister for Magic basically tells you not to vomit, you don't fucking vomit. It isn't easy. It makes your stomach angry. It feels like you're going to die, but you're not.

"Sorry, rough day," I mumbled and was thankful I was near some shabby retaining wall that managed to bear my weight.

"Yes, I imagine debauchery weighs on a person after some time. Come along, we've much to discuss before Ms Granger demands your attentions."

I was ever so thankful when we finally stepped inside. The lumpy red plaid couch was calling to me. I could hear it. It whispered ' _come sit on me, Blaise_ '. I tried to resist, but I'm a weak, weak man. I was also very fucking tired, but then the Minister started to speak.

Apparently, I was in loads of trouble. I stumbled upon Ministry secrets, which is bollocks if you ask me. I didn't see fuckall. So what if I went into the tunnels? I carried Hermione fucking Granger through those tunnels. Draco Malfoy made me his kin. I had every fucking right…shit, there was a wand jabbed into my throat. I suppose I said all of that aloud, which was obviously a mistake.

"You're all fucking mad," I growled. "I didn't see a fucking thing. I heard some whispers. I noticed the niche nearest the Black Garden was different than when Granger and I rested there. I fucking left and that's all there is to it," I shoved the wand away and didn't give a shit it was the Minister threatening me.

I'd lived with Voldemort. I'd witnessed Bellatrix Lestrange's insanity. I'd accidentally eavesdropped on Voldy and Bellatrix shagging. After those horrors, nothing frightened me anymore. They could all fuck right off.

"We'll need you to swear a Wizard's Oath," The Minister's voice rumbled and it sounded louder than it probably was, but I didn't like it.

I didn't respond well to threats and no one could blame me. The War was over. I was a shell of the man I used to be. My best fucking mate was dead and they were more concerned with vagrants and vagabonds fucking around in the tunnel that led me to freedom than…wait.

"I'm not swearing to fuckall. I don't trust you, either of you," I pushed off the sinfully comfortable plaid monstrosity and lurched slightly. "Why? What's it matter to either of you? What's down there? Who don't you want me to tell?"

Harry the ponce Potter was nervously pacing back and forth in front of the Floo. He was making me dizzy. I made a mental note to punch him in the head later. It might not make me feel better, but it definitely couldn't hurt to try.

"Look Zabini, this is important," Harry hissed. "We're not at liberty to share the particulars. Suffice it to say we've made promises as well. The only stipulation that really applies to you is the fact you can't tell Hermione."

I laughed then. It was a full-on belly laugh. I chortled and gasped until the tears ran down my cheeks. Potter had no idea at all what he was asking of me. Hermione Granger is my best mate. She wasn't always, obviously, but life and death situations have a tendency to forge relationships.

We understood things that no one else could ever pretend to fathom. She was my family. I didn't keep secrets from Hermione Granger. I wasn't about to start now despite all the grovelling from the Minister for Magic and Harry stupid Potter.

"Have you got a time turner?" I winked cheekily.

"What is he going on about?" Kingsley Shacklebolt tore his ridiculous little hat off his head and mopped his face with a handkerchief.

I liked that he was nervous. It made me feel powerful. All right, maybe not powerful, but I definitely felt as though I had the upper hand. I wanted to revel in it for a few moments. It felt lovely. It wasn't as lovely as thrusting between the willing thighs of a moaning woman, but it was decidedly nice.

"It's too late," Harry whispered. "He's…he's already told her."

I didn't see the Minister's face because I was busy helping myself to Arthur's spirits. I could see Cissa's tastes speckled throughout and it warmed my heart. There wasn't much of her about, but at least there was something.

She deserved a little happiness. Her horrible husband had done the only good thing in his entire life and sacrificed himself. Her only son was determined to pay reparations for atrocities committed when he was an adolescent. She'd lost her entire immediate family, but she had Arthur. She had Andromeda. She had Teddy. She wasn't alone, not like I was.

"I don't keep secrets from Granger," I spoke quietly with barely concealed contempt. "If you were half the mate you pretend to be, you wouldn't keep things from her either. She'll discover the truth. She always does and I can't imagine it will bode well for either of you."

I knew she was there. I could smell that bloody shampoo of hers. It reeked of apples and while I knew it had something to do with Draco, I wasn't stupid enough to ask.

"It's complicated, Zabini. Do you think this is what I wanted? It's more than a Wizard's Oath and less than an Unbreakable, but I'm not going to cross him," Potter struggled with that last word and I understood his pain well.

It was a nifty little spell. It didn't kill you, but gods it made you wish you were dead. The pain was incredible, worse than the Cruciatus and that's saying something. I hadn't created it. I don't know who had, but when Theo showed us, we were in awe. It was better than an unlimited supply of galleons at Honeydukes. Fuck, we were so stupid.

"Cross who, Harry James Potter?" Granger lightly stepped into the sitting room and I smiled.

I love a cross Granger, as long as she's not cross with me. She had been missing her fire since we returned to the world and it was nice to see a spark. I couldn't say she was back to being that gnawing, grating, itch you can't quite reach, pain in the arse, but anything was possible, I suppose.

Harry Potter held an arm tightly around his midriff and his teeth were clenched together so tightly I was surprised I couldn't hear them grind against each other. There were droplets of sweat on his brow that had nothing to do with his nervousness and everything to do with the spell. The pain would pass, but it taught a valuable lesson.

"He can't tell you, Granger," I don't know why I saved him from a solid tongue-lashing. I should have let him squirm, but I took pity on him instead.

"Blaise," Granger smiled and the heavy weight in my chest felt lighter.

I cared about her and I blamed my dead mate for that. Perhaps it was what he wanted when he shoved her into my arms. Perhaps that was his plan all along when we spent hours whispering in the fucking dungeon. Most of our conversations surrounded her and it was only afterwards did the realisation strike me. He didn't want me to be alone any more than he wanted her alone. I can't say he wanted us together, but Draco Malfoy knew me better than anyone ever had.

She hugged me then and I held her a little too tightly and a little too long. Potter's brows disappeared into his unruly black hair and I looked away. The apples reminded me of him, but her softness was soothing. I hated him a little then, Draco I mean.

"He's right, Hermione and you know how much I hate admitting that," Harry squirmed uncomfortably and the bloody Minister wandered away.

"You'd tell me if you knew, wouldn't you, Blaise?" Granger blinked up at me so prettily, it was second nature to nod my head stupidly.

I don't know what it was about her. I can't say she was more attractive than the Muggle girls I'd been shagging because she wasn't. She wasn't taller. She definitely didn't have bigger tits. Her arse was shapely and her calves were quite nice to look at, but they were walking sex for Merlin's sake! What the hell was wrong with me?

She wasn't mine. She'd never be mine. She was Malfoy's. It didn't matter that he was dead. He had been there first. He had loved her first. He held her heart and no one could ever compare to that and I would be a fool to try. Fuck, I wanted to try. I really hated myself and I needed a drink.

"Where's the baby?" I was almost grateful to Potter for tearing me away from my impure thoughts.

Hermione stood directly in front of me and I could feel the warmth of her body against mine. My cock was being a traitorous bastard, but it's not like I could adjust myself without being spotted. It was a difficult predicament and it took nearly all my concentration to mentally curse my cock into submission.

"Andromeda and Narcissa were smothering me," She sighed. "He's sleeping and they think it's the most wonderful thing in the world to watch him draw breath. I needed a break from them more than him honestly."

Potter smiled his crooked little smile and stepped forward to embrace her. It seemed she didn't much like that idea and bumped into my chest. She gripped my wrist and the hurt in Potter's damn green eyes was palpable.

I had to put my arm around her waist. I had to protect her from Potter and alright fine that's absolutely ridiculous. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to do loads of things I'd never be able to do, are you happy now?

"I believe we're done here Mr Potter, it's obviously nothing can be gleaned from Mr Zabini. Hermione, good to see you," Kingsley tipped his hat and in a flourish of blue robes, he was gone.

I was still touching her. In fact, I was stroking the small bit of exposed skin at her wrist and she hadn't even noticed. It happened sometimes when I touched her and I knew she wasn't thinking about me. Maybe it was something Malfoy used to do, I don't know, but I also knew I couldn't ask. I didn't want to make her cry. She did enough of that by herself.

"Hannah Longbottom asked me to invite you to tea. She uhm, she wants to speak with you and from what she's said, you're avoiding her," Potter scratched the back of his neck, but he still managed to kill me with his eyes.

"I didn't answer her owls for a reason, Harry. I don't want to commiserate in misery with her. I can't do it," Hermione finally stepped out of my arms and I managed to exhale in relief tinged with agony.

"You should talk about him. It would be good for you," My voice was gruff with pent-up emotion, but I meant what I said. "Malfoy wouldn't want you to wallow in misery."

Granger looked at me then. She really looked at me and I was afraid she could see the affection I held for her. She shook her head and I watched her curls sway.

"I can't. I still love him and," Granger swallowed hard and closed her pretty brown eyes. "So does she."


	30. 30 - Hermione

I think about him. In fact, I can't stop thinking about him, nor do I want to. I feel him as well. I feel him all around me, and I know it's puerile, but it helps. I need all the help I can get, otherwise I wouldn't bother venturing from bed in the morning. There are moments, and when they arise, I'm not entirely sure I'm going to make it.

 _"Tell me again what sort of life we could have…after." He never specified, but I knew what he meant._

I'm a strong woman. I've always been a strong woman, but even the strong falter. The mighty do fall, and while I never considered myself mighty, I was strong. I'm not required to be particularly strong now. We've won. The Bringer of Death is dead and gone. It's time for celebrations and the general enjoyment of life.

 _"Fifty points to Gryffindor."_

I can't. I don't want to. It feels wrong to move forward without him. He was supposed to be here. Everything is wrong without him. I've forgotten how to breathe. I've forgotten how to hold a teacup with steady hands. I've forgotten how to sleep in the middle of the bed.

"He's hungry, dear." Narcissa looked the way I felt.

"I'll take him." My voice was barely more than a whisper.

I felt the tears gather on my eyelashes, and I didn't brush them away. My son whimpered in the sky blue blanket, and I knew it would only get worse from there. His fine hair was dark when he was born, but I knew it would change in no time. I could see the thin wisps of light blond teasing along his hairline. His eyes, dear gods, his eyes were my undoing.

 _"Promise me."_

"Have you decided upon a name?" Narcissa hovered, but I didn't mind, most of the time.

She fluffed my pillows. She drew coverlets over my cold feet. She forced me to sip tepid tea and mediocre broths. She took care of me when I was incapable of caring for myself. She loved me when I was incapable of loving myself.

"Almost." I closed my eyes and held my son to my cheek.

I loved the natural sort of scent that accompanied a new child. The sweetness of his breath. The smoothness of his skin. The general calming that consumed me when he was in my arms.

I knew I would be all right, eventually. I just needed to give myself time. I needed to hide away from the world until it no longer hurt to breathe.

"Mr Potter would like to visit with you." Narcissa finally sat on the edge of the bed, and I could feel her eyes studying me.

"I'm not…I'm not ready to see him."

Logically, I didn't blame Harry. I understood the circumstances. I understood the task. I understood there wasn't a choice in the matter. We had fought our entire lives for the greater good, and it would have been exceedingly hypocritical to blame Harry for the death of…the father of my child. However, the irrational, utterly and completely emotional side, begged to differ. It wanted me to shout at him, to hex him, to heap violence upon him, and I was tempted.

 _"You shouldn't love me, Granger."_

Every time I closed my eyes, every time my son lifted his heavy lids and stared up at me, I saw Draco Malfoy. When Harry had come to me and told me what was said, I could hear his soft, soothing voice. I could hear the quaver. I could feel his arms around me, his lips upon my forehead, the pounding of his heart. He was everywhere, and he was nowhere.

"He's refusing to take no for an answer. He claims he has information which will alter our lives." Cissa patted my forearm and tucked the soft blanket around my son's feet.

"Harry's always been dramatic."

I smoothed my hand over my son's downy hair and he crinkled his nose. I watched him yawn and held my breath as his eyelids fluttered. I stared down at him, much in the way he stared up at me. I didn't realise my eyes had betrayed me until a singular drop splashed on his forehead.

"I'll take him." Narcissa reached for him, and suddenly, I was angry.

"No." I hissed at her and held him tightly against my chest. "I am his mother, not you. He will stay with me. I'm sick and tired of asking permission to see my own son. He is mine, not yours." My cheeks felt hot and I knew my voice was raised, but I didn't care.

I was weary, but not physically. It was a bone-deep, weariness of the soul. I was tired of the whispered words while Narcissa pranced about with my son. I knew she missed Draco, how could she not? I knew that my son eased the ached within her, he did much the same for me, but that did notgive her license to interfere.

"Hermione dear, there's no need to be unreasonable. You need your rest." Narcissa Malfoy smiled, but she was afraid of me. I liked that. I wanted her afraid of me. "Have you given any further thought to moving to the Manor? I do think it would be best to raise Scorpius where his father was…"

"Get out."

It was difficult to vacate the bed with a child in my arms, but I managed. I struggled with the nightstand drawer, but I had absolutely no issue drawing my wand. I was still a bit shaky, but I was fairly certain I could jinx her before the bedroom door closed.

"Hermione!" Narcissa yelped, and I smiled.

"I don't recall naming my son Scorpius. In fact, I expressly told you that would not happen. I promised his father. I promised! You don't get to turn me into a liar to suit your personal agenda." I shrieked, and the baby whimpered, but I felt better. I felt stronger. "I'm leaving."

I felt clear headed for the first time since leaving the dungeons. I wasn't shrouded in the thick clouds of despair. He was still with me, I could feel him, and I knew he would be proud of me. I smiled to myself as I rocked my son, and kept my wand firmly trained on the silent blonde witch.

"Y-you promised Draco…you wouldn't name your child…Scorpius? I-I don't understand. He knew, he always knew that's what I wished him to name his heir and I…"

"That's exactly why he made me promise. He didn't want his son to live up to a legacy. He wanted his child to traverse the Wizarding world and the Muggle world. He didn't want to place restrictions and adhere to a pureblood agenda. He wanted more." I don't know if everything I said was completely true, but I liked to think he would have felt that way.

I was afraid to put him down. I didn't trust her any longer. I didn't trust anyone. I could hear the shuffle of feet outside the bedchamber, and I knew Arthur was concerned, but I wasn't interested in his easy words. I saw the door handle shift and it distracted Narcissa, which is exactly what I needed.

 _"You're mine."_

I backed into the wardrobe and shut the door. It was easy to ward it from the interior, and only then could I breathe. The space was small and slightly musty, but it didn't matter. I set the baby on a basket of fresh linens and sifted through my sparse belongings.

They weren't really mine, not really. They were castoffs, and I was grateful to have them. I took the tatty brown leather bag from the corner and stuffed a few clothing items inside. I wasn't concerned for me. I had my son, and he required much more than I.

My hair stuck to my forehead, but I was a woman on a mission. I shoved as many nappies as I could into the satchel, and hoped it was enough. I knew exactly where I was going, but even so, I'd always been the sort of woman to over-plan and over-prepare.

I could hear the muted curses on the other side of the wardrobe door, and I moved faster. I selected a floral print dress and yanked it over my head. I hadn't slept in anything more than a camisole and knickers since I gave birth, not that it mattered.

My hair was one gigantic knot, and it stuck to the base of my neck, but I didn't care. I tied a red ribbon around the mass and called it good. My hands were shaking, but that was normal for me since leaving the dungeon. I didn't have Malfoy to ease the tension. I didn't have him snuggled into my side as I slept. I didn't have him murmuring against my temple. I didn't have him making love to me, and I missed him desperately.

I slung the satchel over my head and tightened the thick strap before I lifted my slumbering son. He adored his sleep, and even that reminded me of his father. I couldn't escape. I'd never escape, but I didn't want too. I wanted to cling to my memories. I wanted to relive every single moment until they were more than memories.

His tiny hands furled and unfurled, and I couldn't resist kissing his cheek. He yawned, and I knew it was impossible for him to cognitively smile, but he did. I'm well aware of the fact it was simply a muscular reaction or what have you, but I needed that tiny baby smile in order to push forward.

"Hermione?" Arthur knocked incredibly lightly and his reticence irritated me.

I stroked a well-worn plaid afghan and tied it around my neck. It was enough to form a sling of sorts and I placed my son within it before I twisted the door handle. There were entirely too many people in the bedchamber I had used since I arrived at The Burrow, and I didn't like it.

"I'm leaving." I sounded demure, even to my own ears, but the twins knew better. I could see it in the widening of their eyes.

"You owe me 5 galleons." George elbowed Fred rather hard, but the money exchanged hands just the same.

"Boys!" Arthur frowned, but there was the barest hint of a smile that danced on the corner of his lips, and I knew better.

"What? Come on now, we bloody well told you." Fred scoffed with a shake of his delightful red hair.

"It was only a matter of time, and now you're angry about it? Ridiculous." George carefully stepped in front of Narcissa, and I offered him a quick smile. "Hermione, if you'd like an escort, Fred and I are prepared to offer our services." The twins bowed, in unison of course, and I appreciated their gallant gesture.

"I think that would be lovely. While I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, I wouldn't mind some aid."

Narcissa made me nervous. I was understandably more skittish than before I was a prisoner in Malfoy Manor, but there was something about Narcissa's narrowed eyes that made me wary. I didn't trust her, which was painful to admit, but true. Something had happened, and I didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was the birth of the only Malfoy heir. Perhaps it was her anger and guilt, not that she'd ever speak of it. She latched onto my son as if he was her saving grace, and he wasn't.

 _"I'm yours."_

He's a baby. He's a brand new baby, and he's mine. I didn't want to share him, and being forced to do so raised my hackles. I was going home. I had a perfectly acceptable home in the country. I hadn't told anyone that I had sold my parent's home. I hadn't told anyone that I had purchased a lovely little cottage near the sea. Even Hermione Granger gets to keep secrets, and this was mine.

"Hermione, please reconsider! You've barely recovered from birthing Sc…your son and I could continue…"

"No." I shook my head and ignored the way her voice shook when she implored me to remain. "I am his mother. I should have the right to be his mother without the interference, however well-intentioned it might be…of others. It's time for me to go home. The War is over, it's all…over." I choked on the words, but I didn't wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I love you, all of you, but I need to spend some time alone. I need to…put myself back together. I need to bond with my son. I need to do it without interruption and without good intentions. I need to figure out a way to get through the rest of my life without a man I didn't know I could love as much as I did, as I do." I clutched at my son, and I could taste the desperation laced with salt on my tongue.

"You're always welcome here, Hermione. You know that." Arthur gave me one of his tentative one-armed hugs, but it was sincere.

Narcissa's lips were compressed tightly together, and I knew she was furious with me. She expected me to be grateful to her, I suppose. She probably expected me to cave to her Slytherin nature as she wheedled her way into becoming the caretaker for my son. I might be Gryffindor, but I am also an intelligent woman. My courage does not belie my intelligence, and I resented her slightly for assuming such things.

"Hermione, could you.." Narcissa threaded her fingers together and took a long, slow, deep breath. I waited. "Would you…tell me his name?" I softened at her request, but not enough to bend to it.

"I can't. I mean, well I could, but I'm not going to do that. I'm not being cruel or vindictive or anything such as that. I simply feel that his father should know his name before anyone else." I patted the baby's bum and worked my way toward the door. "I'm going to get settled at my house, and I plan on…visiting…him." His name always stuck in my throat, but Narcissa knew what I was saying.

"I'll await your owl." She seemed to have calmed significantly, which was for the best. I really would have hated to duel my son's grandmother.

 _"I care about you, you know I do."_

Fred and George were exceedingly helpful. They shrunk the bassinet and a few other items without a bit of fuss, and I placed the items in my satchel. I almost refused the homespun sweater they forced into my hands, but I fingered the blue M with a small smile.

"She liked the letter M."  
"Said it was versatile."  
"Molly…"  
"Mum…" The twins tried to lighten the thick tension hovering in the air of the Burrow, but I knew what they were going to say before they said it.

"Malfoy." I finished for them, and they had the decency to stare at the ground and ignore the way I sniffled. "Tell Harry to give me three days before he breaks down my door." I kissed their cheeks and walked through the wards.

The cottage was dusty, but the smell of the salt in the air masked such things. I was adept as far as Cleaning Charms were concerned, and that was all due to Molly. I hadn't appreciated it then, but I hadn't appreciated many of the things she taught me.

 _"I'm making you love me."_

I walked through the cosy rooms of the cottage and listened to my footsteps echo on the wood. I couldn't shake the whispers. They followed me. They invaded my every thought and I welcomed them. They were all I had.

Of course, I had our son, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't here with me. He didn't see him being brought into the world. He was already gone and so the whispers are what I have left.

The cottage was just as I had left it. It was bright and sunny. It was had an air of happiness and while I knew I had done it on purpose, I hated it. I knew I should want to be happy, but I wasn't ready.

It seems silly, but being happy with him gone felt as though it were a betrayal of his memory. I couldn't do it. I knew it would happen eventually and it gave me some peace, but for now, I wanted to rock my…our whimpering son and revel in the memories before I was forced to move forward.

I don't how what I did to pass the time, but I managed. I did a fair amount of organising that's for sure. I had missed my small collection of books. I hadn't been able to save them all, but the ones I had scurried away were precious.

 _"Tell me something I don't know," I kissed his collarbone and snuggled into his side._

 _"Impossible," He scoffed and held me a little tighter. "I suppose I can give it a try."_

 _"I don't know nearly as much as everything believes I do."_

 _"Yes, you do. Alright then, how about this? Etamin is the brightest star in the constellation of Draco. As I'm sure you know my family is quite fond of constellations. My mother would have you believe Scorpius is the most distinguished and has insisted on more than one occasion that my child, should I have one, be named as such." He folded his arm and shoved his hand beneath his head._

 _"And what does Draco Malfoy think of that?" I loved to listen to him speak extensively as it wasn't a common occurrence._

 _"I think I'm done living up to my parent's expectations of me. I'm particularly fond of Eltanin, which is nothing more than a variation of Etamin, but even so." He kissed the top of my head and it wasn't long before his breaths deepened._

Luna said I was a natural mother. I believed her but only because everything I did for the baby was second nature. It wasn't easy, but I took to it like a fish to water. I liked being needed. I needed to be needed and my friends didn't need me anymore, that much was obvious.

Ron avoided me and I expected it. I think he wanted me to be angry that he got married while I was…away. I wasn't. Why would I be? Did he honestly believe I expected him to put his entire life on hold for me? That's just irrational.

It was two years. At least that's what I was told. It didn't feel like two years. Some days it felt as though I was there forever and now as I look back, it was so short. It was too short. It was a blip. It was nothing. How is it possible that so much and so little can happen in the same period of time?

I wasn't supposed to fall in love with him. I wasn't supposed to have his child. I wasn't supposed to leave him behind, but I did all of those things. I don't know how to forgive myself for them, or even if I should.

I feel like my old self while the sun is shining or even when the rain is falling. I keep myself suitably busy and I even managed to visit with Luna and James. It's the evenings that are the worst. The moment night falls, I feel a chill in my bones.

I closed my eyes as I'm snuggled in my bed and I can hear the baby whimpering in his sleep. I wonder if he can feel my anxiety. I wonder if he dreams. I know I dream and all my dreams revolve around Draco Malfoy.

Every bump in the night makes me gasp. It also keeps me extremely aware of my son. His cries never wake me. I've always been ready and waiting for that first ragged breath. I suppose residing in the cellars made me this way. I seem to be more in tune with my environment, which is good and bad.

Ron can sleep through anything as can Harry. I used to envy their ability to set their head on the table and be asleep. I always struggled, but when he was there, it was easier. I felt safe in a world filled with madness, which is silly. Isn't it?

I should have been terrified. I should have been wary of the Death Eaters upstairs. I should have…lots of things I suppose, but I was none of them. Malfoy was right. I was the worst rescue team in history.

I have to say goodbye. It isn't healthy to hold onto this sort of obsession. It is an obsession at this point. It's been six months and I still feel as though it was yesterday. It's…time to heal.

"Hermione?" Harry, of course, it was Harry.

"I'm here," I didn't bother to turn.

I finished washing the last dish and set it in the rack to dry before I checked on Henry. I named my son Henry. I was sorely tempted to disregard Draco's request. It's not as if he's around to be angry with me, but I couldn't. He asked me to promise him and well, promises mean something to me. They always have.

 _"Promise me."_

Harry looked a right mess. His eyes were red-rimmed as if he had been crying, but it was probably lack of sleep. I heard it from good authority, James was completely enamoured with Harry and as such had been quite incorrigible as far as naptime was concerned. Harry Potter is a father. I'm a mother. Gods, when the hell did we grow up?

 _"Live, Granger. I expect you to live."_

"I'm trying!" I hadn't meant to shout. I didn't usually respond to the silky voice in my mind, but there were moments. There were always moments.

I didn't even have a picture of him, not the way I remembered him. The pictures of him when he was a child did nothing to encompass the man he had become. He exists only in my memory now and that pains me more than I'd like to admit.

"You weren't talking to me, were you?" Harry quirked his head to the side and studied me. I didn't like it.

"Stop looking at me like I'm made of glass,"

Henry fussed in his pram and I hurried to him. I didn't believe in the philosophy of letting a baby cry. Narcissa told me I would spoil him, but she doesn't get in a say how I choose to raise my son. She had ample opportunity to raise her own and look how that turned out. That was cruel, dammit.

"He's blond," Harry ignored my mini outburst and focused on the bleary-eyed child in my arms.

"Thanks, Harry. I hadn't the slightest idea." I rolled my eyes and he almost smiled. Almost.

It seemed my life was filled with a variety of " _almost_ ". I almost stayed at the Burrow. I almost found solace in Malfoy Cottage. I almost made-up with Ron. I almost convinced Malfoy…no, that was a lie.

He was never going to leave with me. I was a fool for believing in my heart of hearts that he would change his mind. It wouldn't have changed how I felt about him, but I almost wish I had known the truth.

"Narcissa and Andromeda wanted me to…ask you if they could have permission to visit with him, er with you," Harry blushed, quite prettily I might add.

I stared at him and held Henry tighter. Narcissa's attachment to Henry wasn't normal. At least that's what I kept telling myself. What the hell did I know about grandparent attachments? I hadn't any parents. I didn't want to share him. Is that so wrong? He's mine and all she does is tell me all the ways in which I'm failing him.

I don't want to listen to her tell me about Draco's childhood. Doesn't she understand how painful that is for me? Why isn't it painful for her? Is that how she copes with the loss of her only son? She simply regales stories of what a horrible child he was and how adorable she thought it was.

"It's alright, Harry. You don't need to soften the blow." I didn't touch him. I didn't do that anymore. "I know Narcissa Malfoy is much more concerned for her grandson and his plebeian accommodations than the woman who bore the child." I laughed without mirth and pointed him toward the back garden.

I liked to think Draco would turn his nose up at my little cottage. He would gaze about with a critical eye and declare we needed something better. He would tell me that while he wasn't attached to the opulence of his youth, he wished to have more children with me. He would tell me about the library he wished to erect and perhaps a Potions lab for his personal use.

I would tease him endlessly and in the end, we'd compromise. He'd scoff at the integration of Muggle appliances, but I'd catch him secretly using the toaster. I would tell him the house was too big and we didn't need quite that much room and he'd kiss me.

It could have been a good life. It could have. I firmly believe it would have been beautiful.

"Can I hold him?" Harry reached for Henry eagerly and I couldn't do it.

"No."

I turned my body away from him and shielded my son. It was my job to keep him safe. I couldn't do that if I just handed him to anyone who asked. I didn't like it when Narcissa continuously swooped in and took him from me, and I vowed I would never feel that powerless again.

"Listen, Hermione, I didn't come here to talk about Narcissa," Harry scratched the back of his neck and I was suddenly stiff.

It was a glaringly obvious sign of his unease and I didn't like it. Nothing good ever came from Harry Potter's nervousness. In fact, I can recall numerous times when I wound up in mortal peril. I'd rather not revisit such things if I've a choice in the matter.

"I don't think I want to hear what you have to say," It was the nicest I could possibly be without jinxing him. Draco would have been proud of me for considering it and I smiled for a moment.

"It's important. I wouldn't have bothered you otherwise. Why do you assume it's bad? You've got that look in your eye like you're ready to run out on me, but Hermione, you've got listen."

I hadn't realised I was moving until Harry was chasing after me. If I was going to be forced to save his arse from some unknown nemesis, I had something I had to do first. I wouldn't desert Harry. I would never, but there comes a time in a person's life when they have to tend to themselves as well.

"Give me a day, Harry. Just one day, that's all I'm asking you."

I watched him recoil and realised he was confused. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps there wasn't some new evil afoot. It didn't matter. I had already made up my mind. It was time for me to visit him. It was time to close the book instead of sobbing over the unwritten pages.

"You're overreacting. Would you…stop for a moment and listen to me?" Harry grasped my shoulders and shook me a little, but I shoved him off.

I had Henry secured in a makeshift sling and I knew Molly would be proud of me for that. It was important to me, that she be proud of me I mean. We both knew I would never be the sort of wife Ron wanted me to be and we had made peace with it. I knew she'd love Poppy, but I still wanted her to love me too, even from the Great Beyond.

"I will listen, I promise I will Harry and you know how important my word is to me," I said.

I slipped into a summer frock because it was spring and I wanted it to be warmer than it was. I wanted to feel the warm sun on my face. I wanted to see the flowers bloom. I wanted to embrace life.

"It's about Malfoy," Harry paused but only because I slapped him.

"You don't get to speak of him," I hissed as I shrugged into the softest grey cardigan I'd ever owned. I patted Henry's bottom and inhaled against his soft pale blond hair. "You don't get to speak his name. I know you did what was necessary, Harry. I don't hate you for it, but I'm not ready. I'm just…I'm not ready." My voice broke and I shook my head. "Give me a day. I'll be back tomorrow."

I practically ran from my cosy little bedchamber and rushed through the front door. I didn't hear Harry following me and that was for the best. This was a journey I had to make alone.

I Apparated the moment I breached the intricate wards of my little cottage and I nearly forgot how much I hated Apparition. The sky was cloudy and grey, which was fitting. I didn't want to do this, but I had to.

I could see Malfoy Manor in the distance, but I had absolutely no intentions of setting foot in that place ever again. Narcissa was downright badgering with her insistences and if she wanted to return to the place where her son died, where many others died, that was her business. It didn't need to be my mind. My son didn't need to grow up surrounded by the memories of the dead.

The family Mausoleum was set apart from the Manor and for that I was grateful. It was a large building, but that was to be expected. The Malfoys had always embraced their wealth.

I paused for a moment to admire the intricate carvings in the stone and as Henry began to fuss, I began to speak. I don't recall everything that was said and it doesn't matter. I had learned it was all about the intonation, but it was also exceptionally therapeutic for me.

"…the bravest man I ever knew. Without him, you wouldn't exist…and it's strange to admit it when I know part of him detested me. It doesn't make him less brave. He was…exceedingly brave. I almost named you after him, but then I realised he wouldn't have liked that. Some would say there were braver men, but I have to disagree, for your sake. I'm sure you understand. He truly was the bravest man I ever knew."

I felt better standing here. There was something incredibly healing seeing the letters etched into the stone. It closed a chapter of my life, and I needed that.

"That's absolutely ridiculous, Granger," I knew that cocky voice, but it was in my head. It was all in my head. "My father was the bravest man you ever knew? That's just as bad as Potter laying claim that Dumbledick and Severus were the bravest men in existence. I beg to differ."

I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming. My mind was playing tricks on me and giving me what I wanted above all else. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Except, the crunch of the gravel was definitely real. The warm breath that ghosted along the top of my head was pretty damn real. The freezing hands that rested on my shoulders…

"You're not real," I whispered and held my son closer to my chest, even as I felt my limbs trembling.

I allowed the hands to turn me around, but I refused to look up. I couldn't have my imaginings dashed to the ground. I screwed my eyes shut and counted my breaths. I managed to count to three before a cool fingertip tutted beneath my chin.

"It feels pretty fucking real to me." He chuckled, and I knew that sound. I remembered that sound. With my heart beating furiously in my chest and the roar of my blood pounding in my ears, I looked up.

"Draco."


	31. 31 - Narcissa

I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know who I am if I amn't Narcissa Black Malfoy. I don't know who I am if I amn't Draco's mother. I don't know who I am. I don't know where to begin.

I am Narcissa Black Malfoy. I have two sisters. I had two sisters. One of them is deceased and the world is better off without her.

My parents are dead. My husband is dead. My son is dead.

I am alone in the world.

I keep repeating little things like that to myself. I keep hoping it will help numb the pain, but it doesn't. Nothing seems to help, not even the warmth of Arthur's embrace.

I can't say I wish I were dead. I don't. I feel as though I was dead, which is understandable under the current circumstances. I am filled with such melancholy, I'm not even sure there's a name for such soul-wrenching anguish.

The contentment of the Order with the return of Hermione Granger only twisted the knife lodged within my chest. I sat with her often. There was something about her silence that soothed me. I pretended I couldn't see the tears dried upon her cheeks and she pretended she couldn't see the way I winced whenever my son's name was mentioned.

Eventually, she spoke to me. I have to admit it was strange to see her weakness on display. I wasn't accustomed to such things. As a Slytherin, we've always kept our thoughts and feelings behind a carefully constructed façade of hatred laced with cynicism.

"Where's Blaise?" Hermione croaked.

I was startled to hear her hoarse voice and truly looked at her for a moment. Her hair was lacklustre. The natural blush on her cheeks had faded into nonexistence. Her usually lively brown eyes were empty. She had a healthy glow about her and while her weight had steadily increased, she looked ill.

"I've heard it on good authority that Mr Zabini has chosen to mingle amongst Muggles seeking libation and questionable companionship," I sniffed with disdain and the implications were clear.

She attempted to smile, but it looked rather pitiful. I couldn't say I enjoyed spending my time with a broken witch, but how else was I supposed to learn of my son's fate? It's obvious he was more concerned with working his way into Hermione Granger's knickers than seeking freedom. I didn't blame him and yet, I did.

I'm a selfish woman. I've always been a selfish woman and I make no apologies for such things. I resented my dead husband for forcing my hand. I resented the Order for resenting me. I resented Hermione Granger for the years she spent with my son. I even managed to resent the child within her, as it was proof that a woman had been more important to him than me.

"I need Blaise," she whispered with a grimace, "and Luna."

I knew what she meant and I was excited, so very excited. In retrospect, my exuberance was uncalled for, but I couldn't help it. This child was the last Malfoy.

I said things I should not have said, but I couldn't take them back. I wanted to be sorry, but I wasn't, not really. I wanted to hold my Draco's child and never let it go. So very much had been stolen from me, was it really too much to ask?

Apparently, it was and it was Harry Potter shoving me away. Hermione Granger had barely spoken to him since her return and yet she turned to him? It would have been laughable if it hadn't been so offensive to me.

She's being unreasonable. She should welcome the help and who better to raise Scorpius than me? I did a fine job raising Draco. He sacrificed himself for Salazar's sake and that's quite an honour so I'm told. It's more than Harry Potter did.

She refused to allow me to be present when my only grandchild was brought into the world! Can you imagine the horror? I, for one, am absolutely appalled by her behaviour. I could barely contain myself.

She's never had a sense of propriety. She spit upon centuries of Pureblood traditions. I suppose I shouldn't have expected better. She's only a Muggleborn after all.

"Cissy, you're being unreasonable," My sister and her interfering ways only wished to calm me, but I have a right to my anger.

"I am not! He is my grandson! I have every right to be there and hold him and whisper in his ear before his mother sets an eye upon him! It's tradition!" I straightened my new robes and stroked them lovingly. It has been entirely too long since I had been wrapped in elegance.

"Do you honestly believe Draco would have allowed you to interfere in the birth of his child? The old ways were not better and to hold onto them is foolish." Andromeda smiled at her grandson and patted his head.

"My son was always a Malfoy first. He would have allowed me certain concessions." I sniffed haughtily and rapidly stirred my cooling tea.

"Your son fell in love with a woman he was taught to hate. He was not the boy you raised. He was hers and she was his. You're fooling yourself if you think otherwise and I pity you." Andromeda wiggled her fingers while Teddy ran about with James and I resented her.

"It's easy for you to say. You have your grandson. You're not forced to share him with his mother and…" I didn't see the palm until it had already recoiled and my cheek stung.

"How dare you?" Andromeda reminded me of Bellatrix as she snarled at me. "As if I would wish my daughter were dead, simply so I could raise my grandson unhindered? He deserves the world. He deserves to have two parents to raise and love him. He doesn't deserve to be saddled with an old woman and to see his parents in pictures. You always were a selfish bitch. I see nothing has changed."

I didn't stop her from leaving. I simply stood there and watched her gather the boys and pressed my palm to my cheek. It smarted and I deserved it. Gods, what have I done?

I wasn't the same woman, the same witch as before this blasted War. I had been pompous and self-absorbed and it seemed my deplorable habits had chosen to revisit me at a most inopportune time. Lucius would have been proud of me and I couldn't bear the thought.

I'm not ashamed to say I wept. I wept for the lives lost. I wept for myself. I wept for my son. I wept in my shame.

My eyes were throbbing and my cheeks swelled by the time I had calmed. I didn't attempt to use my magic to hide the proof of my sorrow. I wanted to wear it. I wanted to suffer with it. I was being dramatic.

I stared at the emptiness of Malfoy Cottage and realised I didn't belong there anymore. It was a pretty place, a quiet place, if a bit quaint, but I wasn't truly a Malfoy any longer. It was filled with bittersweet memories that had never been tainted with the cloud of death. Every niche held the lingering scent of my deceased husband and I had moved on.

I had tried to move on. I wasn't positive I was completely successful, but I made a valiant effort. I was so used to being the Aristocratic Pureblood Matriarch, it was difficult to settle into a different role. I was periphery at best and I knew that. I simply didn't wish to accept it.

Part of me wished nothing more than to return to the confines of Malfoy Manor. It would have been easy, to say the least. I had missed my things, my opulence, my indulgences. I knew Arthur would refuse me and that was part of the reason I resisted.

I was quite attached to him. He was a bright spot of warmth amidst the darkness and I had issue reconciling such feelings. I was supposed to despise him. He was supposed to maintain his distaste, but that's not what happened at all.

I love him, in my own way. It wasn't with the fierceness I felt toward Lucius. It was so utterly and completely different it took me entirely too long to admit to the emotions. Arthur was warm where Lucius was cold. He was so bloody happy it was almost irritating, but gods he was loyal.

His heart was never-ending. I didn't know such a thing was possible, until Arthur. He would have done anything for his children. I liked to believe he would do anything for me as well, but I couldn't be sure. I couldn't imagine having enough room in my heart for seven children as well as my spouse, but he did it with ease, no less.

"Narcissa?" Arthur Weasley stepped through the Floo in the sitting room and it was obvious he was so very nervous.

He was covered in soot and didn't bother to brush himself off. It was yet another endearing quality I used to look down upon. He had changed me and I was better for it. It was time to let Lucius go.

"Here, I'm here."

I imagined he was used to Molly rushing toward him and perhaps even covering his face in sloppy kisses. I imagined he was used to hearing the bickering of his chicken laced with laughter. I supposed he was used to the scents of home cooked meals and freshly baked bread and I was nothing like that.

I listened to the sound of his gentle footfalls and then his arms were around me. His body wasn't as hard and unforgiving as my former husband's was and I was grateful for it. It was different in as much as it was the same. Arthur afforded me protection and I felt safe within his warm embrace.

"Andromeda seemed quite put out," he whispered against my cheek.

"It seems I've…been insufferable."

There wasn't much to say on the matter, not really. Arthur knew better than I how absolutely abominable I had been. He was a patient man. He never insisted I spill forth my upset. He simply waited and I appreciated that beyond measure.

"Ah yes, I do think I've heard that," Arthur chided me softly and squeezed me a bit.

"Why do you put up with me?" I was genuinely curious.

I was nothing like Molly. I didn't spend my days in the kitchen. I didn't bake fresh bread or degnome gardens or anything that she'd seen as commonplace. We truly were night and day. Our ferocity of love for our families was the only quality I truly believed we shared.

"Whatever do you mean?" Arthur crooned against my ear and I melted.

The man is unbelievably talented. It's no wonder he's had seven children. His prowess is nothing to scoff at, but Arthur's abilities would have put Lucius to shame. I don't feel the slightest bit of shame admitting to such things either.

His lips were always so soft and Arthur used them to distract me from my inner turmoil. It was nearly impossible to formulate a proper thought with his hands roving across my back before they dropped to squeeze my bum. All the tensions, anxieties, and irritations disappeared with his gentle touch. I wanted him and I wanted him now.

Arthur's soft, smooth, talented lips languidly teased my throat, I lost all train of thought. His breathy little sighs in my ear caused gooseflesh to rise across my skin and I kissed him hard. I shoved his shabby blazer from his shoulders and immediately set to work on the buttons of his frayed striped button up.

I hadn't wanted to overstep my bounds, but in some respects, I wish I had. His wardrobe needed some serious updating, but then he was touching me and I no longer cared. He truly was skilled beyond measure, and it wasn't long before my blouse and skirts were lying in a heap on the sitting room floor.

"Tell me what you want," Arthur gasped as he pushed me toward the settee.

I could barely catch my breath and his hands never stopped moving. I was on fire. The throaty little moan when he spoke made me tingle. Lucius had never been one for speaking during coitus. In fact, he insisted upon utter and complete silence. It didn't make for passionate lovemaking, but Arthur was the sort to change everything.

He moved slowly yet with determination. He frowned deeply in concentration, but the corners of his lips were gently upturned. His eyes were filled with kindness but also love. It scared me a little. I wasn't accustomed to such blatant expression of emotion.

"You, just you," I whimpered as he tore the pins from my hair and settled between my thighs.

We moved together. It was reminiscent of waves gently lapping at the shore and soon I was gasping as the coil in my abdomen tightened. Arthur grasped my thigh and dragged my leg over his hip just before he kissed me hard. I moaned like a harlot and then there were spots that flashed before my eyes as Arthur shuddered above me.

"Fred, did you know dad has freckles on his arse?"

"No, but it goes to reason as it seems he's got them everywhere else as well."

"Rather wish I hadn't seen that."

I didn't know what to do. I'm not sure Arthur knew what to do either. He stopped moving, but I could still feel him and I had to bite my lip as the pleasure rolled over me. I was mortified and yet completely satisfied.

"Boys!" Arthur glowered at them and I was thankful I couldn't see the twins from my position on the settee. "Sorry, love."

"It's quite difficult to take him seriously in his current position," George faux shuddered and covered his eyes in his exaggerated matter.

Fred Weasley rocked on his heels and pretended his eyes hadn't lingered on my bared calf. I knew better, but the last thing I wished to do was draw attention to myself. I was completely out of sorts. Part of me wished to shove Arthur to the floor and the other part wished to draw him closer in order to hide from his sons' eyes. It was conflicting, to say the least.

"Please, make them leave," I whispered shakily against Arthur's throat as I dug my fingernails into the fleshy bits at his waist.

"Boys, go into the kitchen. I'll deal with you momentarily," Arthur growled, quite angrily I might add.

My eyes widened in surprise, especially when he grappled for his wand. He managed to pluck it from the floor with a slight grunt and his eyes narrowed. The twins retreated with their hands raised, but Arthur's wand wasn't directed at them. He was concentrating on the wards, if I had to hazard a guess.

"George, we can't leave," Fred sounded a bit panicked, but I was deliciously proud of Arthur.

Perhaps his demure nature was in direct correlation to Molly's overbearing traits. I know it isn't in especially good taste to speak ill of the dead, but I'm not being disparaging. She was a strong woman, a strong witch. She had to be and despite our sordid history, I had respected her strength.

However, Arthur had strength in his own right and it was overshadowed. I suppose the same could be said for me, couldn't it? I had been devious to some extent, and the wellbeing of my family was always of the utmost concern. Lucius was…well, he was the sort of wizard that expected his word to be followed without question and my wants, and even my needs fell to the wayside.

"I shan't have you escaping," Arthur's low snarl interrupted my thought process and I shivered against him. "Go on with you."

I felt Arthur's weight lessen and peeked through my lashes. The scurrying of feet alerted me to the fact the boys had vacated the room, for which I was ever so grateful. I did enjoy watching Arthur dress. He wasn't pompous the way Lucius was, but he wasn't necessarily embarrassed either. He had a healthy dose of humility and I do believe we could all learn something from him.

I glanced down at my own nudity and I didn't shy away from the sight. I freely admit I wasn't necessarily pleased with my physique. My dead husband had often curled his lip at my softness over the years. Arthur, on the other hand, was never bothered by the thin silvery lines decorating my hips and it was then I realised I truly loved him.

"Gods," I whispered as the sensation hit me full force.

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes and I was completely overwhelmed. I quickly wiped them away and retrieved my discarded clothes without a word. I struggled into my robes while Arthur shuffled behind me, but I couldn't look at him.

"Cissa…" I heard his voice, but I couldn't fall to pieces, not now.

It was too much. It was too soon. It was too…everything. I had just lost my son. I had angered the mother of my only grandchild. I had angered my last remaining sister. I was a disaster. I couldn't contemplate the budding happiness amidst the turmoil.

I locked myself in the washroom and splashed cool water on my flushed cheeks. I studied the crinkles near my eyes and smoothed my hair. I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, but I could buy myself some time. I dallied in the shower and scrubbed my skin raw, but I didn't feel any better.

I sobbed against the tile and nearly sunk to the ground. I didn't, but I was tempted. Instead, I forced myself to turn off the achingly hot water and dried myself thoroughly. Before I was a Malfoy, I was a Black. I was not raised to cower in the face of fear or uncertainty.

Instead of stepping into my robes, I opted for a heather grey pinstriped pencil skirt. The daring plum blouse paired perfectly and while it exposed more than I was accustomed to, it was lovely. The matching heather grey waistcoat completed the ensemble with sensible black peep-toe stilettos.

I was procrastinating. I knew I was. It would have been infinity easier to step into my fitted royal blue robes, but I hadn't wished to hurry. I was still grappling with the swell of my heart and I was certain it would be blatantly obvious the moment I joined Arthur.

"…you can't just show up here unannounced," I heard Arthur's raised voice the moment I stepped into the corridor and I quietly crept closer. "This isn't the Burrow. You've got to respect her space!"

"Dad, we didn't mean anything by it…"

"You didn't even think and that's a problem. You might have gotten away with such things before, but enough is enough. I've a right to privacy. Narcissa has a right to privacy. Why the hell do you think I've given the Burrow to your brother?" From the sound of it, Arthur's fist struck the counter.

"Y-you gave the Burrow to…"

"Ron, yes," Arthur sighed and I imagined him leant against the doorjamb. "I don't need to hold onto it anymore. Bill and Fleur are quite happy in France. Charlie is never going to leave his dragons. Percy is…well, Percy's with your mother. You boys have got the flat above your shop. Ron and Poppy are expecting and I've a right to build a life."

I could see his thinning red hair as I turned the corner and I was correct in my assumptions. He was slightly slouched in the doorjamb as he spoke in harsh tones to his sons. I didn't know he wished to build a life without the memories of Molly around him and I wondered if his plans included me.

"Dad," It was always slightly unnerving for me when the twins spoke in unison, and this time was no different. "We don't want to begrudge you a life or anything."

I only knew George had completed the thought because I could see him now. Fred caught my eye and he winked, which made me feel better. I was near enough to Arthur to touch him, but I didn't want to startle him.

"Look, it's been years since your mother passed and I know you love her. I don't expect you not to love her. I loved her and part of me still does I suppose, but that doesn't mean I don't have room in my heart and in my life for someone else as well and I'll be damned if I let you two wankers fuck it up for me," Arthur Weasley stood straight and tall as he pointed his fingers at his incorrigible twins.

I couldn't say I approved of his language choices, but I understood his frustrations. I covered my mouth to keep my gasp silent. It was unnecessary considering Arthur sighed heartily and I wanted to hug him. I wasn't the hugging sort, but in that moment, I could have been.

"I love her. I want to build a life with her. I want to marry her and I'll be damned if I do it while drowning in memories of your mother or Lucius. I'm also damn sure I don't want to start our new life in Cissa's dower house either, so yes, I've given the Burrow to Ron. I've bought a lovely plot of land and I'm having a respectable home constructed. I love you, boys, but you're going to have to learn some bloody manners," Arthur shook his head and took a singular step backwards…directly into me.

"I don't think that's how he wanted to tell her," George snickered.

"George," Fred shook his head and there was something hilariously amusing about seeing one man drag another out the back door by the ear.

"H-how much did you hear?" Arthur asked quietly as he stared at the scuff on his brown shoes.

"I heard enough. I'm not…very good at this sort of thing," I closed my eyes and carefully considered my words. I didn't want to hurt him, but I wasn't sure I could be as forthcoming as he had been.

"I don't need you to be," Arthur dragged me to him and held me close. "I know you've lost your husband, and the loss of your son is achingly fresh. I'm not attempting to diminish your pain, but I also think it's time for us to live. I'd like to do that with you," Arthur cleared his throat nervously and I smiled against his chest, "if you'll have me."

My breath caught in my throat and my heart pounded furiously, but there was also peace. He was right. It was time for us to live. It was time to leave the anguish in the past. My lips parted, though I hadn't the slightest idea what the hell I was going to say when my Floo roared to life.

"Cissa? Arthur?" Harry Potter lumbered through my home, though Arthur and I didn't move from our positions. "I need to speak with you, oh I'm sorry, I'm interrupting."

"It's all right, Harry, it can keep," Arthur squeezed me gently, but still I didn't lift my head. It was safe. It was comfortable. He was my home.

My sooty lashes brushed my cheek as I blinked slowly to study the dishevelled Auror. Harry was obviously conflicted and I was suddenly curious. He took a deep breath and winced as the words spilt from his chapped lips.

"It's about Draco."


	32. 32 - The Narrator

_He laid there, quite content upon his back and listened to the silence. It was strange really, he mused. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself._

 _After the passing of some time, or perhaps no time at all, he realised that he must exist. He must be more than a disembodied thought because he was definitely lying upon some sort of surface. The sense of touch was slightly disconcerting as he was nearly positive he was dead._

 _A noise reached him through the nothingness and while he was still contemplating the existence of his eyelids, they flickered open. The very idea he could see in the first place was not lost on him and he nearly roared with delight. The white mist that surrounded him was closer to a cloudy vapour that had not yet formed into discernible surroundings. The small soft thumpings of something or someone in the midst of a struggle or flailing were distracting as well as irritating._

 _He sat up and flexed his fingers and toes, pleased with his bodily responses. His eyes adjusted to the brightness around him, yet it was still unpleasantly vivid. If he was dead, his current environment defied every anecdote his mother had ever shared with him about the terrors of the Afterlife._

 _His clothes were immaculate and thoroughly pressed. As he stood he inspected the clean lines of his black slacks and adjusted the cufflinks of his slate grey button down before he took a slow cleansing breath. His fingernails were pristinely clean and even managed a dull shine as the irony was not lost on him._

 _He wasn't surrounded by the blazing hot hellfire of the Muggles. He wasn't being endlessly flogged by some sadistic reincarnation of Voldemort. He wasn't reliving every questionable decision and downright sin he'd committed during his lifetime. For the Afterlife, it wasn't anything he was told to expect it to be._

 _It took him a few moments, but then he was walking. The longer he looked, the more there was to see. It was vaguely familiar and yet completely new all at once. He spun on his heel and his white wispy surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes._

 _He was tempted to explore his environment, but those whimpering sounds continuously drew his attention. He stepped toward the dingy brick that suddenly appeared only to pause at the strangled sound at his back. He turned and immediately recoiled from the sight._

 _It seemed he had stumbled across the pathetic creature gargling in its own saliva. It was reminiscent of a small child, nearly an infant really. It was curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough. Quite honestly, it looked as though it had been flayed._

 _It intrigued him, but not enough to sully himself and touch it. He drew nearer and even crouched beside it. He wasn't afraid of it, but he had no issue admitting the creature absolutely repulsed him. He stretched his hand toward it only for his palm to hover in midair as a disgruntled scoff filled the air._

 _"Leave it be."_

 _He spun around and nearly gasped. He was tempted to rub his eyes and will himself to wake. Instead, he blinked rapidly and watched the figure stalk toward him. He was well acquainted with the black billowing robes that filled his vision, but it was impossible, wasn't it?_

 _"Mr Malfoy," Severus Snape's thin lips were set in his customary sneer as his steps slowed. "Imagine my surprise to discover you here of all places. Come on then, let us walk."_

 _Draco Malfoy dutifully followed his godfather as the man strode away from the decrepit creature. He was led to an unforgiving iron bench some distance away under an exceedingly high street lamp. Severus sat down and looked at Draco expectantly until the poor confused boy fell beside him._

 _"I don't…I mean…you're dead," Draco finally managed to sputter._

 _"Obviously," said Severus Snape in an utterly dry tone laced with sarcasm._

 _"Fuck, I'm dead, aren't I? I knew it," Draco paused and his hand automatically pushed his blond hair off his forehead. "I wish I could have…"_

 _"Always so melodramatic," Severus interrupted. "I shouldn't be surprised really, you always had a penchant for dramatics," Snape pinched the bridge of his nose as his dark hair brushed against his cheeks. "Was there a question Mr Malfoy or must I spend my Afterlife listening to your laments?"_

 _"Am I dead?" Draco's grey eyes lifted slowly as he desperately clung to the glimmer of hope._

 _"Yes, I suppose that is the question, isn't it?" Snape nodded thoughtfully, without the slightest hint of encouragement._

 _"Is_ _ **he**_ _dead? Can you at least fucking tell me that much?" Draco spat._

 _Severus Snape closed his eyes and took a long, slow, deep breath. It wasn't in his nature to be forthcoming, but he supposed to boy had earned it. Even in the Afterlife, he was resentful over the loss of Lily. It didn't matter that she was never his, his heart had always belonged to her and it seemed Draco Malfoy suffered the same ailment as another Muggleborn witch._

 _"Potter completed his task," was all Severus offered and Draco accepted it with a forceful sigh._

 _"Well thank fuck for that. I'd hate to think I bloody well died for nothing," said Draco._

 _"Have you then? Have you made your decision?" Severus crossed his long legs and folded his hands primly in his lap._

 _"Decision? Wait, I can decide not to be dead? What sort of madness is this?"_

 _Draco leapt from the iron bench and angrily paced in front of his former Professor. He clasped his hands behind his back and kept his eyes trained on the glowing white ground. It didn't make a bit of sense to him. He didn't wish to play yet another strategic game of cloak and dagger. He only wished to know if he were dead or alive. He also wished to know about Granger, but he couldn't force his lips to part with those questions._

 _"Oh look at his face, Severus. He isn't concentrating in the least. If I had to hazard a guess, his thoughts were filled with that…woman," Even in death, Lucius Malfoy's voice dripped with disdain as far as Hermione Granger was concerned._

 _"F-father?" Draco's steps faltered and his head pounded. "Would one of you tell me what the fuck is going on?"_

 _Draco was near hysteria and the muted brick wall seemed to be filled with whispers, begging him nearer. He resisted, but only due to the fact he didn't understand the draw of it and spun on his heel. He was surprised to note what looked like the Leaky Cauldron and his head swivelled between the two options laid before him._

 _"He's waiting, Lucius. If you think I'm going to reiterate any anecdote regarding Harry Potter you're no smarter in death than you were in life," Severus tossed his hair and found sudden interest in his fingernails._

 _Lucius Malfoy's cane slapped against the white pavement in harsh staccato movements as he approached his only son. While his lips were curled into a sneer, Draco was capable of seeing the softness around his eyes. He didn't know what to make of it and simply stood still._

 _"Must I really?" Lucius sat beside Severus as grey met grey. "Do you love her?"_

 _Draco's brow furrowed and he swallowed quite audibly. He didn't want to have this conversation with his father. He wasn't ready to discuss her. He needed other answers first and perhaps later, he'd be willing to broach the subject of Hermione Granger._

 _"Does it matter?" Draco whispered. "If you were still alive, would you even be asking me such a thing or would you be parading some petite pureblood blonde in front of me demanding I provide an heir?" He paused and shook his head quickly. "If I'm dead, it doesn't matter, does it?"_

 _Severus and Lucius shared a small smirk together, which only succeeded in raising Draco's hackles. He hadn't the want nor the inclination to dally about some strange white wonderland and decipher cryptic messages from the great beyond. If he was dead, he simply wished to accept it and move on. Perhaps, he could dally in his journey and visit Hermione Granger, just for a moment to ease his anxiety concerning her survival. Perhaps, he'd even manage to see his child…_

 _"Don't look at me like that, he's your son," Snape sniffed and turned his dark eyes toward the quivering pile of bones._

 _"This is hell. I'm in hell. I obviously hadn't suffered enough in life and the gods decreed I deserved to be trapped with my father and godfather for all eternity. Fuck, I wish I were back in my cell," Draco lamented._

 _"The dramatics he gets from his mother," Lucius shook his head lightly and it burned Draco's eyes to see his father's white-blond hair against the white wisps surrounding them._

 _"Alright, at least tell me this much, how am I here? The last thing I remember is standing across from Potter with the Dark Fuckstick fighting me for possession of my own bloody body," Draco waved his arms and the tic in his cheek jumped angrily._

 _"How are you here?" Lucius scoffed. "You let him kill you."_

 _"Obviously," Severus interjected, "the boy knows that much, Lucius. I do believe he's intelligent despite his current ignorance."_

 _"I-I know I let him kill me," Draco finally crumpled at the feet of his father with a dark groan. "I couldn't just do nothing. I hadn't done anything at all during the course of the War. I know I was a coward. I know I allowed my fears and insecurities to dictate the path I chose, but I couldn't continue it. Is he…is he really dead?"_

 _It was a rare moment, but a moment just the same, when Severus Snape took pity on the man before him. Despite his death, the loss of Lily had burrowed into his soul and he recognised the anguish quite well. It wouldn't do to allow the boy to suffer, but it was up to Draco to make peace with his choices._

 _"Voldemort is dead, Draco. The last Horcrux was destroyed and it was your act of bravery that allowed Mr Potter to finally deal the last blow."_

 _"If he's dead and I'm dead, why am I here? Shouldn't I be…I don't know, frolicking in a field of fucking daisies and reuniting with my dead relatives or some such nonsense?"_

 _"Because you love her, my dear boy," Lucius awkwardly patted his son's shoulder and managed to keep his sneer to a minimum._

 _"Oh bollocks, is this one of those 'love is the greatest magic' sort of moments? I think I'm going to be sick. Ow! What was that for?!" Draco angrily rubbed the back of his head and glared up at his father._

 _Severus lifted one shoulder and his apathetic expression was enough to make Draco flinch away from the intensity of it. He allowed his thoughts to wander once more and despite his best efforts, he continuously circled back to Hermione Granger. The wretched agony etched across her tear stained cheeks as Blaise Zabini carried her away from him would be burned into his mind's eye for eternity. He was sure of it, just as he was sure of the soul-wrenching torment that accompanied it._

 _"It isn't just love though, is it? I can't accept that. It's entirely too sappy and I absolutely revoke the thought. It's sacrifice as well," Draco stretched his long legs in front of him and studied the inappropriate shine on his black shoes._

 _"I do believe he's catching on," Severus lightly bumped the elder Malfoy's shoulder and was satisfied to hear the man's indignant sputters._

 _"I'm still in awe over the fact I sacrificed myself for my heir, just for him to turn around and do the same for a Mud-Muggleborn. I suppose I really shouldn't be as surprised as I am. He always had a tendency to blather on and on about her, didn't he, Severus?"_

 _Draco's pale hands curled into tight fists, but it was the sparkle in his father's eye that calmed his rage. He wasn't accustomed to the fury in his blood at the very hint of an insult to her name. He didn't deserve her. He never did and he knew it, but it didn't change the fact he wanted her, desperately._

 _"No more than I reminisced over Lily or you waxed poetic over Narcissa. The poor boy is completely besotted," Strangely, Severus Snape smiled. "Would you deny your only son that which you yourself have experienced? The Pureblood Malfoy heir is in love with a Muggleborn witch and what of it? Have you learnt nothing from our indiscretions? Blood purity means nothing, it never did, and we were all fools for ever believing otherwise. There are worse choices he could make, Lucius."_

 _Lucius Malfoy adjusted his robes with a contemplative stare. It was difficult to relinquish his hold on his son, even in death. He had prided himself on his ability to be a strong wizard. He had prided himself on many things, and yet what did they matter now? He was nothing more than a memory and his legacy was lost._

 _Was it wrong of him to yearn for his only son to walk in his footsteps? Perhaps. Was it wrong to wish Draco to marry a respectable Pureblood witch and provide an adequate heir? Perhaps. However, it was obvious his son was no longer an impressionable child and even more so, it was obvious Lucius Malfoy had much to learn._

 _"Lily Evans Potter sacrificed herself for her son in the utmost display of love. It is easy for one to scoff at the simpleness, but even you must recall the Dark Lord's aversion to any sort of goodness, Draco. I can't tell you the number of times I was forced to listen to him spout his vitriol where the Potter boy was concerned," Lucius squirmed uncomfortably, but with a reassuring nod from Severus, he reluctantly continued. "I am not going to pretend I am not a selfish man. It would be folly to do so. However, I have always sought to protect my family. I might have chosen questionable means, but there was nothing more important to me than you and your mother."_

 _"What does this have to do with anything?!" Draco pushed himself to his feet and clenched his jaw._

 _"I altered the centuries-old wards on my family home in order to protect you. I banished your mother and removed her choices in order to protect her. I willingly offered myself to a madman to ensure your survival. Some might say," Lucius swallowed the bile lodged in his throat with distaste, "that my actions were not…unlike Lily Potter's."_

 _Draco Malfoy tossed his head back and laughed. It echoed and faded into the white wisps that continued to dance around him. It amused him greatly that he was sitting beside two dead men. It amused him, even more, to hear his father being compared to the likes of Lily Potter. Whatever sort of nightmare Draco was trapped within definitely had a sense of humour._

 _"Which of course, brings us to you," Lucius stared deep into his son's eyes and recalled an easier time when Draco was still in nappies and believed he had hung the moon. "Tom Riddle was never sort of wizard to comprehend self-sacrifice. He refused to grasp the notion that Light would always prevail over Dark. He was…a prideful, pompous fool and no, the irony is not lost on me. The very idea that you could thwart him by being honourable had never crossed his self-involved mind. My love for you and your love for Hermione Granger…those are the reasons that you are here. We offered our lives for the greater good and the gods apparently look upon such things with favour. You have a choice to make, my son," Lucius Malfoy's voice trembled slightly and Draco was stricken by the emotion in his father's words._

 _"A choice to what exactly? I could go back, is that what you're saying? Or I could…walk through those doors and…" Draco's brow furrowed and he fell silent._

 _"Move on," Severus interjected simply._

 _"Move on," Draco scoffed. "What does that even mean anyway?"_

 _"It's a bloody expression, Draco! Were you always this obstinate? It's a simple matter! You segue from Life to…the Afterlife and it is whatever you make of it!" Lucius Malfoy's cheeks were a lovely shade of pink and Severus shrouded his laughter with a small cough._

 _"Wh-what would happen if I chose to…stay?"_

 _Lucius was struck by the childlike wonder splashed across his son's face. It was fear. It was intrigue. It was desperation. It was everything he never wished to see presented to him with a discoloured frayed bow and it wounded him deeply._

 _"You would simply return, Draco, not unlike Harry Potter. It would cause you to have yet another sliver of common ground with the boy," Severus Snape's disdain oozed from nearly every pore as he sneered quite nastily. "However…"_

 _"Tell me about her, please? Something, you've got to give me something. Is she…is she happy at least? You can tell me that much, can't you?" Draco Malfoy had been reduced to begging, yet he didn't feel an iota of shame._

 _"She is alive, exactly as you wished her to be. We cannot offer you more than that," Snape's brow arched and Draco knew better than to push the issue, yet he couldn't resist._

 _"How the fuck am I to make an informed decision without the pertinent information?" Draco's bellow caused the pitiful creature to gargle and choke, but they paid it no mind._

 _Lucius held his tongue with difficulty. He wanted nothing more than to beseech his son to return. If the option had been presented to him, he gladly would have accepted it. He detested leaving his beloved behind and no, it had nothing to do with her seeking solace in the arms of Arthur Weasley. Lucius had loved her before he had properly understood the notion of love and such things did not dissipate upon death. In fact, it seemed they strengthened, and while he wished her a long life, he also could not wait to gaze upon her again in the depths of the Great Beyond._

 _"It would be difficult to return, Draco, but not impossible," Severus Snape broke the silence and his low timbered voice eased the tension between the Malfoys._

 _"Difficult, what do you mean?" Draco's breaths grew shorter and even in the space of in between, there was a light sheen of sweat on his brow._

 _"You are not a Horcrux, Mr Malfoy. Harry Potter's survival was ensured by more than the simple act of love between mother and son. Tom Riddle created yet another Horcrux when he attempted to murder Harry Potter when the boy was nothing more than an infant. Therefore, a remnant of the Dark Lord's soul resided within the boy. Later, through the aid of Peter Pettigrew and the unfortunate demise of Cedric Diggory, Riddle took Harry Potter's blood and rebuilt himself with it. He…tethered himself to Mr Potter and Mr Potter to life…so to say. However, it is quite different for you, my boy," Severus Snape's knees creaked as he rocked his body into erectness. He strode behind the unforgiving iron bench and his fingertips danced along the dreary red brick._

 _"Tell me…" Draco whispered._

 _"Tom Riddle channelled his essence into you, with your permissions obviously and…" Lucius harrumphed angrily at Snape's nonchalant recounting of the facts._

 _"Yes, we all know I was Voldefuck's skin suit, your point?" Draco tossed his hands into the air and his shoulder brushed against the heavy door opposite the brick._

 _He was distracted for a moment by the lure of it. He was vaguely aware of Severus and his father bickering, and even the wretched pile of bones whimpering, but they couldn't hold his attentions. There was almost a song like undertone and it called to him. His clammy palms pressed against the wood and then a surprisingly strong hand was gripping his shoulder and yanking him backwards._

 _"We are not finished, not yet," Lucius snarled._

 _"As I was saying, you aren't tethered to life by Blood Rituals or Dark Arts Spells. You are tethered to life…by her. Your love for her. Your sacrifice for her. Your life for hers," Severus Snape paused for dramatic effect and slowly released a tremulous breath. "Your affections for the girl have transcended centuries of Malfoy prejudices. You are to be commended for such things, despite your father's insufferable attitude. It would…behove you to carefully consider your choices, Draco."_

 _Draco knew his Godfather wished to say more, but it seemed his lips had unwillingly fused together. He closed his eyes for a moment and made various assumptions. He knew his Godfather had been unhealthily enamoured with Lily Potter and he never understood it, until Hermione. She had changed his entire world, but the fear of acceptance continuously loomed over him._

 _"You would require…a convalescence period so to say," Lucius kindly continued in the face of Snape's inability. "Your body, son. It needs to repair. You wouldn't be capable of rushing off to…to her," Lucius struggled yet managed to keep his traitorous tongue from upsetting his son further._

 _"How long?" Draco whispered harshly. "How long would I be forced to remain in the shadows? How long would she be forced to believe me dead? HOW LONG?!" Draco grasped his father's lapels and his hands shook with the effort to keep from shaking the man._

 _"A handful of months at the very least," Severus deftly removed Draco's clenched fingers and subtly stepped between the two Malfoys._

 _"It would…it would be better for me to actually be dead if that's the case, wouldn't it? I don't…I don't know if she'd ever forgive me for that. She'll have to…she'll be forced…I won't be able to see there, will I? I won't be able to see my child enter the world," Draco deflated slightly, but he did not crumple to the ground in the heap he longed to be._

 _"We cannot…offer you instruction as to your choices, Draco," Lucius Malfoy leant forward and embraced his son only to release him just as quickly. He retreated step by step as he felt the air around them shift._

 _"Is this real? Or has this all been happening inside my head?" Draco asked; if only to disrupt the jumbled thoughts wreaking havoc in his head._

 _Lucius Malfoy faded in the distance as the walls surrounding them receded and the bright mist obscured him. Draco could see the grim set of his father's lips and a toss of his head, and then he was gone. He turned to Severus and despite the surly glower and narrowed eyes, the man's thin lips stretched into a tight smile._

 _"I'm not even going to deign to answer that," Severus gestured toward the brick in a brisk, yet elegant motion. "You've made your decision then?"_

 _Draco Malfoy closed his eyes and immediately the picture that splashed across his eyelids was Hermione Granger. It wasn't quite right. It wasn't quite the way he assumed she'd look now. He hadn't the ability to see her then. He hadn't the ability to see anything until that moment he was no longer in control of his faculties._

 _He imagined soft caramel brown curls that brushed near to her waist. He spied a modest splash of dark brown freckles littering the bridge of her pert little nose. Her lips were wide with silent laughter as she tossed her head back in pure joy. Draco knew it wasn't real, but he wished it were. He wished he could see her, hold her, smell her and not one last time…forever. He wanted her until his very last breath, but the niggling doubt caused him to waver._

 _"Yes," He finally replied._

 _Draco narrowed his eyes and a faint smile graced his lips as the sound of his godfather's billowing cloak faded into nothingness. He stretched his arms to either side and strangely enough, he could feel the rough brick on one side and the smooth wood on the other. He took a deep breath and as the tension seeped from his bones, everything faded to black._


	33. 33 - Hannah

I just wanted to speak with her. You'd think I was asking the world. I wanted to see him, her son. I was achingly curious to see if the boy looked like his father. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I look at Frank every day and see bits of Neville.

He would have made a wonderful father. He was a wonderful husband and I know he loved me dearly. I wanted to feel that way. I wanted to be completely consumed by the overwhelming sensation of completeness. I wasn't, but I wanted to be.

Neville didn't know and I would never tell Frank. It was my secret to bear. I loved Neville, I did, I swear I did. I loved him before I was taken, but it had changed afterwards. It wasn't his fault. In fact, there was nothing he could have done about it. He did exactly what I believed he would do. He continued to love me and I think part of him knew.

It was an accident. There are moments when I hate myself. There are moments when I refuse to admit the truth even to myself. I didn't spend nearly as much time with him as Hermione did and it doesn't make sense to me. I needed someone to explain it. I honestly believed it would be her.

If anyone could understand how the hell I fell in love with Draco Malfoy, it would be Hermione Granger. I didn't mean to and I attempted to talk myself out of it, but in the din of the evening, my thoughts always strayed to him. When Neville was holding me, I would blink and Neville's dark hair would be light and grey eyes would be staring back at me.

It isn't fair. It isn't fair that I should love him as much as I do when I carried Neville's child. It isn't fair that my heart should ache for a man that didn't want me, rather than the man I married. I'm a horrible person and I was seeking absolution, but she wouldn't give it to me.

On the other hand, I can't blame her as much as I want to. He was hers and she's never been a stupid woman. I'm absolutely positive she knew I caught feelings for him, perhaps even before I did. I don't think I'd answer my owl if I were her either.

Poppy Weasley says I'm romanticising my time spent within the bowels of Malfoy Manor. She purchased me some Muggle book about a mental condition called Stockholm Syndrome. Yes, I suppose there were similarities, but it wasn't the same.

He wasn't my gailer. He was a prisoner just the same as I, and he chose to protect me. There's a certain amount of bonding that's bound to happen in such situations. He was kind to me. He gave me his cot. He kept me from being violated by Death Eaters.

I don't know why it upsets me to speak of it. It really was wickedly boring, now that I think of it. Draco Malfoy wasn't particularly communicative. I think that had something to do with my incessant crying. I was terrified in the beginning and I missed Neville desperately.

 _"Dear gods, Abbott, if I have to listen to you babble on about Longbottom for another moment, I'm going to bash my face into the bars until I'm dead."_

It was honestly the first time he had spoken to me. He'd told me to lie, and in doing such, saved me from a brutal ravaging. He shoved me toward the cot and remained silent for more days than I could possibly count.

I don't know why I love him. I don't have definitive reasons. It's not as though he was particularly kind. It's not as though he showered me with affection. Bloody hell, it's not as though he shagged me into oblivion and I had offered.

"You were insulted by that, weren't you?"

I watched my favourite teacup fall from my hands and shattered upon the jagged stone. I wasn't expecting company and to know someone was there and eavesdropping on my deepest thoughts, made me feel shame.

"What are you doing here?" My cheeks were flushed and my skin felt hot, but I refused to cry.

Ginny Weasley smiled knowingly and flipped her long red hair over her shoulder. She walked with a slight limp and tended to favour her side, but she was well on her way to mending. It had been months upon months that she'd been gone and it seemed she had returned.

"Come on now, Hannah. Where else am I supposed to go?" Ginny sat in the grasses and spread her white skirt wide as she admired the bright orange flowers splashed upon it. "Do you reckon I should go to the Burrow and keep Poppy company? Perhaps, I should give dad and Cissa a visit? Oh wait, I know! I should definitely go have a chat with Hermione. Bet she'd love to see me."

She had a point I suppose. Ron could barely stand to look at her. He was filled with immense guilt and who could blame him? Ginny had saved his life. I can't say I would have been that brave. She did it out of her love for Harry Potter and while the Hufflepuff in me understood, the venomous jealous witch in me baulked at the idea.

If I had actually had Draco Malfoy, I wouldn't have let him go. I don't care if he loved someone else more than he loved me. I would have had him. He would have been mine. The other witch in question could fuck right off. Gods, I'm a bitch.

"She might. You've been gone. You've missed quite a lot," I offered a half shrug and watched my son prod my foot with his chubby fingers.

Ginny's hearty throaty laugh startled me, but it was a welcome change to the silences. I was used to spending my time alone. I was used to my days being filled with Frank and tending our modest little home. I didn't interact with the Order much. There wasn't a point to it.

"I doubt it. She's in mourning and from the looks of it, you lot are mourning the same man. I don't imagine that would go over well. Does anyone else know about your unrequited affection?" Ginny bumped my shoulder and it was then that I noticed the glaringly obvious stone on her finger.

I desperately wanted to pry, but I didn't. Ginny was the sort of witch who pushed back and I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of baring my soul to her. I'm not a Gryffindor. I'm not known for my courage. I miss Neville. I miss Draco. I'm very fucking conflicted.

"I do."

I stiffened and pulled Frank into my arms. He voiced his displeasure and squirmed, but I held him tight. He gave me strength. I could be calm and composed if I concentrated on my son.

"I didn't think you'd come," I spoke without turning and Ginny smirked.

"I nearly didn't. Blaise convinced me," Hermione Granger carefully stepped into my garden and my eyes were immediately drawn to the small bundle wrapped in white that she cradled in her arms. "I didn't realise you'd returned, Ginny."

She smiled, but her lips were barely stretched and the tension was tight around her eyes. Her eyes widened slightly when she spotted the small scar on Frank's forehead, but I refused to acknowledge it, let alone discuss it. I felt the waves of tension roll through me and it seemed only Ginny was at ease, which made me glad she was there, strangely enough.

"Can I hold him? What's his name?" Ginny's brown eyes sparkled as she clamoured to her feet and attempted to take the baby.

"No," Hermione shook her head quite violently and stepped away from us, which I found peculiar.

Ginny and I exchanged a perplexed glance and waited. It was obvious she was distraught, but why she came here under such circumstances is anyone's guess. I didn't know what to do for her. I didn't know if there was anything I should do, therefore I just stood there and waited.

"I don't," She paused and frowned before she took a deep breath. "There isn't a nice way to say this. I don't like sharing him. I've put up with Narcissa up my arse and I've had enough of it. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that—"

"You're hurting and he eases the pain. I understand completely."

I did. I absolutely understood. I had done the exact same thing when Frank was born. I couldn't bear to be apart from him once my Neville died. It's sort of hypocritical of me to refer to Neville as mine when I still harboured these unresolved, unrequited feelings for a dead man.

I studied her as she tucked her son against her chest. I'd never thought she was anything special. Brilliant, well that was a given, but she wasn't what could be considered beautiful. I suppose I always believed when he chose someone to love, she would be breathtaking, but instead, I was staring at plain Hermione Granger and it irked me.

"I shouldn't have come," Hermione shook her head and Ginny glared at me.

I didn't want her here, but it was obvious she was in immense pain and pain I could understand. She kept looking at me. She wanted something and I knew what she wanted. I didn't want to help her, or well anyone really. I wanted her to suffer as much as I had suffered, but that wasn't fair at all.

"You've come for a reason, go on then, tell me what it is you want from me," Even I winced from the harshness of my tones.

"Does it get better?" Hermione's chin jutted forward and it was only a further testament to her strength even as her voice wavered.

"I'll go set the kettle on," Ginny quickly excused herself and I watched her go.

Hermione waited until we heard the back door of my cottage swing shut before she settled herself onto the patchwork quilt in the grasses. I watched her while she loosened her peasant top and pressed the infant to her breast. I swallowed hard and listened to the sound of her son suckling before I sat beside her.

"In what sense?" I had to start somewhere. "I don't really know what you're asking me or who you're asking me about."

"That's…fair, I suppose. I assumed you knew I meant Neville. I didn't realise you were still or had accepted that you had feelings for uhm for uh," She stumbled and I wasn't cruel, despite my inner turmoil.

"It's alright, I can't say it either. I can't utter my husband's name without wincing. I can't say your blokes name without feeling like I've been punched in the gut. It's a bit pathetic, but it can't be helped. At least, I don't think it can be helped."

"Does it hurt when you breathe?" Hermione stroked the silky blond strands on her son's head and inhaled against his forehead.

"No," I paused. "It used to feel that way. It felt as though daggers had taken up residence in my lungs and every laboured breath was tearing me to pieces."

I couldn't have identified which man I was speaking about, but when I closed my eyes, I saw Neville. He really had burrowed his way into my heart, even before I was snatched. He never pressed me for more than I was willing to give and there were moments I felt as though I had betrayed him. Perhaps I had. Perhaps I hadn't. Perhaps I should stop focusing on what was and look toward the future.

"I need to see him. The Ministry wouldn't allow me to say a proper goodbye. I know they have their protocol, but they didn't allow Narcissa either. I've been putting it off. I feel as though it's saying goodbye forever and I don't know if I'm ready to say goodbye to him," Hermione lowered her head, but she didn't cry. Her strength was admirable. I definitely didn't have it.

"I haven't visited either of them if it makes you feel better. I can't really compare the nothing that I had to the everything you had. I don't understand why you're really here. Was it to see if I had feelings for him?" I was growing angry and allowing my emotions to get the best of me.

"Of course you had feelings for him," Hermione glared at me and I flinched away from her narrowed brown eyes. "I'm not stupid, Hannah. You cared about him and convinced yourself it was love even though he never made an effort to reciprocate your feelings. It happens, and I don't even fault you for it. However, you came home. You married Neville Longbottom, who was one of the finest wizard's I'd ever encountered. You had a child with him, who just so happens to look so much like Neville it makes my heart ache. You're greedy, Hannah and that's my issue with you."

"How dare—"

"I'm not finished. I can't begin to tell you how reckless Neville was when he'd discovered you were gone. Harry and Ron had to physically restrain him from going after you. He was inconsolable. He never moved on. He never stopped hoping, stopped looking, or stopped loving you. When you came back it was the happiest I'd seen him in ages," Hermione paused and studied my face for a moment. "I know it was difficult for you, in the beginning, being a prisoner, I mean. I also know you warmed to him much quicker than I did. You offered yourself to him and he declined—"

"Yeah he did, but he didn't waste any time getting you into the sack, now did he?"

"I feel sorry for you," Hermione shook her head and tucked a strand of free hair behind her ear with a sigh. She wiped her son's lips and tucked away her breast before carefully rising to her feet. "I don't have to justify my relationship with him to you. I thought perhaps you'd understand better than anyone else, but I was wrong. I'm lamenting the loss of my love, of the father of my son, and you're still bitter and jealous that he didn't love you. Don't worry, Hannah. I won't visit again."

I watched her walk away. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't shout. I didn't anything at all. Instead, I slipped away into the house.

"I need you to watch Frank for me," I held Ginny's hands in mine and begged her.

"You're going after her aren't you? I heard bits and pieces of your conversation, Hannah. It isn't a good idea. She deserves to visit him in peace," Ginny Weasley has lost a bit of her fire after the accident, but her words still managed to sting.

"I have no intention of interacting with Hermione Granger ever again, thank you very much," I was lying, but she didn't notice. "She said what she needed to say; I managed to get quite a bit off my chest and perhaps we're both better for it. I simply need to clear my head and I can't do that with Frank running about, is all."

Ginny pursed her lips, but she hadn't a retort. I knew Frank would be in capable hands. I trusted her and considering the way she kept absently placing her palm on her abdomen, she could use the practice.

It was silly of me and incredibly selfish as well. I needed to see it. I needed to touch it. I needed to trace the letters of his name carved in stone. I need to let him go and I needed to cry.

I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I wasn't in the mood for their judgements. They'd look at me with their pitying eyes and what could I say to that? It's not as though they could tell me to be happy. My husband is dead. I'm a widow and a mother at that.

They could tell me it would get easier over time and they would be right. It had gotten easier over the months. There were times when I forgot the sound of Neville's laugh and the touch of his hands upon my skin. He had truly loved me.

If I had been more careful, if I hadn't been snatched in the first place, everything would be different. I wouldn't have these latent feelings for Draco Malfoy. I would be mourning the loss of my one great love. I don't know if a person only gets one great love or not, but I like to think that's how it would have been.

I had difficulty Apparating to the proper place. I was off by more than a kilometre, if I had to hazard a guess. It didn't bother me. The trudge gave me time to think.

It seemed the only thing I had been doing lately was thinking. I didn't feel as though I was making progress with my tumultuous emotions, but perhaps I was. I no longer cried myself to sleep and I was grateful to wake with dry eyes.

I could see the Manor in the distance and I had absolutely no intention of stepping foot inside. I had it on good authority that Narcissa didn't even live there. She had considered it, but being that she was in a committed relationship with Arthur Weasley of all wizards, it wouldn't due to remain in Lucius Malfoy's family home.

I liked the sound of the gravel as it crunched beneath my feet and I felt my lips stretch into a real smile. I had been faking my smiles for so long, a genuine one felt strange. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, but that was alright as it had been there in the first place. Progress is a wonderful thing.

There was someone there. It was her. Of course, it was her. I didn't want to see her again. I didn't want to see my pain reflected in her eyes. I didn't want to feel guilty for the way I felt. I knew I didn't have a right.

I hid behind some overgrown shrubbery and crept closer. She was talking to her son. I couldn't make out all the words, but I didn't want to. It was entirely to intimate for my tastes. Shit, she was crying and then I felt awful.

I probably should have stepped forward and comforted her, but the pop of Apparition startled me. I nearly fell over from the shock of it. I don't even think Hermione heard it over the sound of her sniffles.

There was a figure and whoever it was seemed nervous. They would take a few steps forward with surprising confidence and then pause. It was curious to watch. I didn't understand why they would be remiss to approach her. She's a War Heroine. She's Hermione Granger. If she wants to weep over the grave of Draco Malfoy while holding his child in her arms, so be it.

A breeze blew past us, and the figure's hood fell backwards. I swallowed hard. I had to be imagining things. It couldn't be him. He wasn't alive. He wasn't here.

I watched the way he moved and I knew he could see. I don't know how any of it was possible, but he was really there. The familiar smirk on his lips, the swagger to his step, even the tilt of his head was so achingly familiar I was forced to choke back a ragged sob.

I tucked my dirty blonde hair behind my ear and strained to hear him speak. It took every ounce of my waning willpower to keep from rushing forward. I wanted to throw myself in his arms, but it wasn't my place.

I held my breath and crept as close as I possibly could without alerting them to my presence. I wasn't close enough to touch him, but I was close enough to see his eyes were squinted. It seemed he wasn't accustomed to the light yet, and I wondered how long he had been able to see.

"You're not real," Hermione's voice shook and I didn't blame her for that. It was a wonder she could speak at all.

We had believed him to be dead for months on end. How the hell was he alive? How on earth did no one know he was alive? Why the hell didn't he at least tell her? I had millions of questions and I doubted they would ever be fully answered.

I watched the way he studied her, as if he were drinking in every minute detail. I suppose he was, he hadn't actually seen her in years. I sighed into my hand when his hands shook as he stretched them forward to grasp her shoulders.

He held his breath when he spun her around and I held mine as well. Was she going to shout at him? Was she going to cry? Was she going to slap him and leave him there hurt and broken so that I could-

"It feels pretty fucking real to me," He laughed lightly and I closed my eyes.

I had never heard him laugh before that moment. There wasn't a reason to laugh when one was held prisoner in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. He smiled and my heart broke and healed all at once.

"Draco," She said and her voice was full of wonder.

The baby chose that moment to fuss and I could see his internal struggle. He didn't want to break eye contact with her, but he had to know that child was his. There was no other scenario to consider and I wondered if he knew she had been with child before he set her free.

He cupped her cheek with his palm and lowered his forehead to hers. I couldn't see his eyes anymore, but I imagined they were closed. They stood so still for so long, I almost grew bored with it, except for the fact the baby kept whimpering.

"Is this?" Draco whispered and ever so gently stroked his son's wet cheek.

"I'm not dreaming, am I? You're really here. How is this, I don't, but I heard and Harry said—" She stumbled over her words and honestly I felt a bit of perverse pleasure over that.

"Granger, I'll explain everything. You'll get angry with me. You'll shout at me a bit. You'll be ridiculously angry with Potter and probably the Minister as well, but it won't matter because I'm fucking here. Now please tell me, is this our…child?"

He spoke to her as if he really knew her. He knew all the right words to say and he anticipated her reactions. Gods, he treated her the way Neville treated me and I had fucked that right up, hadn't I? Draco Malfoy loved Hermione Granger. He really loved her and with that much love, there was never any room for anyone else, and I was a fool.

I never had a chance. He never would have settled for me once he'd felt a love like that. My heart hurt but it wasn't necessarily in a bad way. I felt as though the tiny fissures were slowly knitting themselves back together. I think witnessing that scene between them was the best thing that ever could have happened.

"Yes, I mean, his name is Henry," Hermione patted the boy's bottom and shivered from the chill in the air. "Henry Eltanin Malfoy."

"You remembered," Draco sighed and it was a beautiful sound. The sort of sound that would break your heart with its tenderness, if it weren't already broken.

"I remembered everything," Hermione tore her eyes from Henry who had finally quieted down and stared up at Draco in absolute wonder.

"I should have told you, Granger. I'm sorry I didn't. I've regretted it for every moment we've been apart. I don't want to be presumptuous, but if you still feel the way you did for me, I'd rather not be parted again," Draco nervously licked his lips and I almost smiled.

"Told me what? Told me you weren't dead?" Hermione frowned the moment Draco shook his head and his pale blonde hair fell into his eyes.

"You asked me to tell you when I had Blaise take you away, but I couldn't. I honestly didn't think I was going to make it out of there alive, and I nearly didn't. I didn't want to tell you the truth because I didn't want you to hold onto it for the rest of your life. I wanted you to be happy, Granger," Draco held her face in his hands and stared deep into her wide brown eyes. "I love you. Please don't cry, love."

I didn't belong here. This wasn't for my eyes. This wasn't for anyone's eyes but theirs. I was an intruder.

It was easy enough to Disillusion myself and I walked much further than necessary. I needed to clear my head. I needed to let go of that which I never had. I needed to fix myself before I could be a good mother to Frank.

"Are you alright?" Ginny set Frank on his feet and hurried to me.

I hadn't felt light-headed, but the moment I felt her hand on my elbow, my knees buckled. She led me toward the settee in the receiving room and hugged me. I hadn't been touched by anyone other than Frank in a very long time. It was nicer than I thought it would be.

"Draco Malfoy's alive. I saw him," I rubbed my face against Ginny's shoulder and sighed. "Hermione was there. He loves her so much, Gin. Neville loved me like that and I pissed it away."

"You didn't, dear. Neville died. If he were here, everything would be different and you would be happier than you are now. You'll get there again. You'll find your happy," Ginny kissed my forehead and smiled at me.

"What if there's only one person for everyone?" I hiccupped and sniffled a fair bit, but I didn't cry.

"Well, if that's the case, then Blaise Zabini has been shagging everybody's person."

We laughed and for the first time in a long time, I felt as though everything was quite all right in the world.


	34. 34 - Harry

I didn't even rub my cheek after she slapped me. I deserved it. I knew I did. She was also being completely unreasonable. She knew I hadn't a choice in the matter.

Tom had acquisitioned Draco Malfoy's body for Merlin's sake. He wasn't a complete human being or anything. If it hadn't been for Malfoy's sacrifice, I don't even know what sort of world we'd be living in and I definitely didn't want to think about it.

Hermione said to give her a day. I knew where she was going. She had delayed her trip time and time again, at least that's what I had heard. She didn't like to look at me if it could be helped. I didn't blame her. I think it's safe to deduce that every time she looked at me, she didn't see Harry Potter. She saw the wizard that killed the man she loved.

Her cottage would have been lovely, but it was so empty and cold I couldn't remain without her there. I knew what I had to do and I wasn't looking forward to it. If Hermione's wrath was difficult, the simmering rage of Narcissa Malfoy would be even worse.

The twins had mentioned Cissa had left the Burrow. I hadn't spent much time at Malfoy Cottage, but I knew where it was located. It was a lovely dowager home, but I couldn't see Arthur and Cissa remaining there. A man has his pride after all and it wouldn't be fair to expect Arthur to live in Lucius Malfoy's shadow.

They were a strange pairing, but it made sense. They had both loved and lost. They had both been sort of trapped in controlling relationship, though it felt like a betrayal to think of Molly that way. It was true to a certain extent. Molly Weasley had a wonderfully large heart, but she also liked things the way she liked them. I couldn't say much about Lucius as I'd never liked the man and it's unkind to speak poorly of the dead.

When I arrived at Malfoy Cottage, the twins were just outside snickering together. They were quite the bright spot amidst all the difficult times, though there were moments when their shenanigans wore heavily on the nerves. I watched George poke Fred in the ribs with his elbow and the two waved with a half smile.

"Dad and Cissum are having a moment," George began.

"You might want to give them a bit," said Fred.

"I would, I really would, but this won't keep," I wiped my hands down my face and looked towards the door. "I received an owl this morning, and I attempted to speak with Hermione first, but—"

"She slapped you," Fred offered.

"Nice rosy handprint you've got there, Potter," George chuckled.

I didn't like them very much then. It wasn't the time to be poking fun at me. I knew Hermione had slapped me. I was fucking there.

I didn't respond to them. In fact, I pretended I couldn't hear their whisperings and muted laughter as I stepped into Malfoy Cottage. I was not going to lose my temper.

The twins followed me and not a second later, they shoved me into the Floo. I couldn't even hear what they had shouted, but there I was, back at Grimmauld Place. It wasn't funny. It wasn't remotely amusing, and I was definitely not in the mood to be a victim of one of their fucking pranks.

I didn't even dust the soot off me before I was tossing in a handful of Floo Powder and shouting 'Malfoy Cottage'. I stumbled out of the Floo, but that was Fred's fault. He stuck his leg out and guffawed when I sprawled on the floor.

"Sorry, mate. Dad's basically asking Cissum to marry him and whenever you come around, it's terrible news," George helped me to my feet and pushed me toward the kitchen.

"Cissa? Arthur?" My feet were working against me and even I cringed at the heavy sound of my footfalls. "I need to speak with you, oh I'm interrupting, sorry," I wasn't sorry in the least, actually.

Arthur was embracing Cissa and the affection between them was still strange, even after all these years. I often forgot how much time had passed. I didn't like to dwell on the years Hermione was missing or even the time Malfoy spent in his self-imposed prison.

"It's about Draco," I winced, but I was bracing myself more than anything. I had already been slapped just trying to deliver a bloody message.

She just stared at me. Narcissa's blue eyes widened, but she remained silent. I didn't know what to make of it and turned to Arthur.

"Harry," Arthur's voice was low and filled with warning.

"Look, there's no way to say this delicately. I was supposed to inform Hermione first, per his instructions, but she refused to listen to me," I yanked on my dark hair and backed slowly away from the narrow-eyed blonde witch.

"What are you saying, Mr Potter?" Cissa's voice shook and I swallowed hard.

"He's…he's alive."

The words just hung in the air. I didn't know how to break the silence. I didn't know if I was supposed to repeat myself or just stand there. I opted to stand there, but apparently, that was the wrong decision. My toes barely grazed the ground as Arthur had lifted me by my lapel.

"Harry James Potter," Arthur spat, but Narcissa curled her pale hand around his forearm.

Arthur let me fall to the floor and I managed to remain on my feet. I cleared my throat and opened my mouth a few times, yet said nothing. I didn't have any more information to give them. Malfoy had sent me an owl and told me to see to Hermione. His instructions were explicit that Hermione be told first and then his mother. I sort of wanted to kill him…again.

"Show me," Narcissa Malfoy's blue eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"I-I can't," I stammered. "He only said he'd come to you when he was ready."

I watched Arthur pluck Narcissa's wand from her hand as I gulped. His freckled arms enclosed around her waist and held her against him. I was sort of afraid of the woman. I hadn't ever had a mother, but I liked to think her protective nature and instant ire was something my own mother would feel if the situation were different.

"Get out," She hissed and I wasn't stupid enough to argue with her.

I was really hoping she would forgive me. I mean, she'd always forgiven me before. It wasn't a particularly ludicrous thought to believe she'd forgive me this go-round, was it?

Perhaps it was and I was once more the fool. I'm really good at making rash decisions and later regretting them. I'm also really good at forging ahead and causing rifts in relationships.

It wasn't intentional, hurting her I mean. I was sworn to secrecy. I had taken a Wizard's Oath. The Minister for Magic told me if I spoke a single word about it, he'd have my job. I'm sorry, but I was not going to risk my bloody career for Draco Malfoy. I don't care how much my best mate loves him.

It wasn't just a Wizard's Oath that stopped me. It was more than that. It was the terrifying promise of death in Kingsley Shacklebolt's eyes. He wouldn't have just sacked me. He would have killed me. I might have been the wizard that finally killed Voldemort, but there's only so many times I can call myself The Boy Who Lived before it doesn't carry any weight, before it's meaningless. I wasn't bloody immortal.

I couldn't concentrate on anything. Even the Minister had given me a reprieve from his constant demands and I wondered if he had received a Howler from Hermione as well. All I could think about was what I could have done differently.

 _Harry carefully covered his limbs with his Invisibility Cloak and held his breath. It was easier to fit underneath by himself, though there were moments when he missed scuffling with Ron and listening to Hermione's grunts of discontent. He glanced over his shoulder one last time and covered his head._

 _He didn't like having to manoeuvre through his own house as though he was an intruder, but it was necessary. The Weasley twins popped over whenever they wished and he couldn't take the chance. It was a risky endeavour as is, but he had promises to keep._

 _"You can go now, Harry. Ron dragged the twins to the Burrow," Luna smiled serenely and waved happily. "Don't forget the sack, you'll need it."_

 _Harry didn't respond, but his audible sigh caused a tinkling laughter to break forth. There were moments when he really hated Luna's intuitiveness. She had an eerie ability to know things before they were ever said, but then again, if it weren't for her, they'd probably still be grappling with ideas on how to end Nagini._

 _Luna Lovegood held James on her hip and carefully opened the back door. Harry slipped passed her and restrained the need to ruffle Jamie's dark mussed hair. Sometimes the love he had for his son overwhelmed his senses, but he hadn't the time to dally._

 _Harry hurried down the steep steps that led into the Black Family Tunnels and slid on the slickness of the bottom step. The Cloak slipped and angrily Harry yanked it from his head. He left it in a heap and marched his way through the darkness._

 _"Took you long enough, Potter," The lazy drawl set his teeth on edge._

 _"Shut up, at least I came. I could have just stayed home with Luna and James. I'd have really liked to spend the day with them. He keeps stringing words together and half the time he doesn't make a lick of sense, but it's so adorable I don't even care. I keep trying to convince Luna to marry me, but she keeps saying no. Can you believe it? I mean, the idea that she wouldn't want to marry me is ridiculous, isn't it?"_

 _"For the love of all things holy Potter, shut the fuck up."_

 _Draco Malfoy groaned and tossed his arm across his eyes. Personally, Harry thought it was bullshit the way Malfoy was determined to keep his eyes tightly screwed shut. He hadn't the patience to deal with Malfoy's melodramatic laments._

 _"Why should I? You're here moaning and making a fuss when you could be recovering at Malfoy Cottage with your mother and Hermione for that matter," Harry snorted and dropped the rucksack onto the feather tick._

 _"I can't," Draco sighed and sat up quickly. "I can't let her see me this way. I can't be some fucking invalid the first time I actually lay eyes upon her."_

 _"Is that why you keep your eyes closed? It goes to reason that you can see," Harry curled his lip at the rickety chair in the corner, yet sat on it just the same._

 _"I want her to be the first thing I see. I've lived in darkness for seven years, Potter, what's a few months after all that?" Draco wiped his face with his hands and simply waited._

 _"Why did you force us into that Oath?" Harry was genuinely curious and he figured it didn't hurt to ask._

 _"You're such an idiot. You're Harry Potter. Hermione Granger has been leading you around by your short and curlies since First Year. You would have told her. You wouldn't have been able to keep it from her otherwise. I have the right to recover on my own terms. Have you brought the Potions?"_

 _Harry was amazed by the way Draco leant forward and plucked a well-worn cardigan from the edge of the tiny table. He stood with a groan and stretched painfully. Harry wanted to help the man, but he knew how much Draco detested it._

 _"They're in the sack by the bed."_

 _Draco grunted and shuffled toward the foot of the bed. His fingers were numb and they ached with the effort, but he finally managed to open the bag. He carefully hefted the amber bottles and tilted his head and he gently shook each one._

 _"How the hell do you know which is which by fucking listening to them, Malfoy?" Harry's mouth gaped in astonishment and awe._

 _"Fucking magic," Draco scoffed and downed a Replenishing Potion with a shudder._

 _"Do you want me to tell you about her again?" Harry rubbed his eyes and wondered how much longer he'd be forced to visit with Malfoy._

 _"No, not yet. Tell me about the weather. Is it spring yet? What of my mother? Has she been her overbearing self?"_

 _"She had the baby. Your mother was exceedingly overbearing, but I suspect Arthur will fix her. He's good at that. I also imagine Hermione will lash out soon and go off to her cottage. It's a nice little place near the sea. She loves the sea," Harry continued to ramble, but he knew Draco had lost focus._

 _"What did she have? What's the…you can't just…fucking, Potter," Draco crumbled onto the feather tick and dragged a thin coverlet over his thin form._

 _"She had a boy. I'd tell you his name, but she won't share it with us. Cissa was absolutely determined to name him Scorpius—"_

 _"Over my dead body," Draco snarled angrily and Harry smirked._

 _"Well technically—"_

 _"Fuck off you wanker," Draco coughed into this palm and Harry knew it was painful from the constriction of the man's abdomen._

 _"You're nearly better, Malfoy. When?" Harry let the word dangle in the air._

 _"I've got a few more treatments left, Potter. When they're completed."_

 _"You realise you're a hero now? I might be The Boy Who Lived and all that nonsense, but you, you're—"_

 _"The Boy Who Died, fuck off, Potter. I'm tired. Tell Shacklebolt whoever is brewing his Invigoration Draught is shit."_

 _Harry didn't linger, there was nothing more to say. He would simply bide his time and count the moments until he could beg Hermione's forgiveness._

She hasn't forgiven me, but she hasn't outwardly hated me either. Does that make sense? I'm not entirely sure. I mean, she sent me a Howler, but she didn't shout at me.

Her words were low and even and that was much more terrifying. I wanted her to understand that I couldn't change anything. For once in my life, I was a willing pawn and perhaps that's what she hated the most. I don't know.

 _How could you, Harry?_

It played over and over until I couldn't even hear anything else. I wasn't fit for work. I wasn't fit for anything. I could barely entertain James without staring into nothingness. I don't know how Luna put up with me.

She was being particularly difficult, but at least it didn't have anything to do with Draco Malfoy. She refused to marry me and I had bloody asked. She would just laugh and kiss my cheek. It was infuriating as much as it was adorable.

"Ginny's pregnant," Ron marched straight into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with his face as red as ever.

I didn't know what to say to that. I hadn't seen or spoken to Ginny since she was whisked away to Shell Cottage. I knew she had been tended by Bill and Fleur, but otherwise, I wasn't exactly included in conversations as far as she was concerned.

"Should I offer congratulations?" I shrugged and busied myself making toast.

I love toast. I've always loved toast. It was a rare commodity when I had the misfortune of living with the Dursleys. It was always soggy bits of bread and scraps of leftovers, but I didn't like to think about those times in my life.

"That's not even funny, Harry," Ron sat at the table expectantly and I knew it wouldn't be more than a few moments before he was demanding sausages and other breakfast treats. "She was supposed to heal, not find some bloke and wind up having a baby. What the hell was she thinking, Harry?"

"She was probably thinking she's an adult and it's her life and if she wants to have a baby, we've got no right to say otherwise," I quickly turned the sausages in the pan and burnt the tips of my fingers.

"Why couldn't you have loved her, Harry?" Ron slumped in his chair and didn't inhale every slice of toast set on the plate.

I shoved a plate beneath his chin and he ignored it. It was fairly serious if Ronald Weasley ignored food. Of course, that was the moment he decided he was hungry after all and began shovelling sausages and toast between his taping lips. Never watch a Weasley eat, trust me on that.

"I did love her. I do love her. It just, it wasn't enough, Ron," I don't know why I bothered explaining anything to him. "I proposed to her. She accepted. I thought we'd have a wonderful life together and then—"

"She discovered Luna Lovegood had your child. When the hell did you and Luna happen anyway? Where was I?"

I brushed bits and pieces of fried egg from my forearm and considered his question carefully. I couldn't tell him it was an accident, in the beginning anyway. I couldn't tell Ron that despite the fact I had conflicting emotions about his baby sister, I had been scurrying away to snog Luna senseless in nearly every alcove of Hogwarts.

"What is it you want, Ron? Do you want all the tawdry details? Would it make you feel better to think I was sneaking off with Luna while Gin was waiting for me, because that isn't what happened at all," I angrily ripped a corner off my buttered toast and narrowed my eyes.

"Actually, I'd just like a distraction from the fact my baby sister has had sex," Ron grimaced and it lightened the atmosphere.

"I had sex with—"

"Don't you say it, Harry. I don't need those sorts of pictures in my head, thank you very much. Alright so, from what I understand, you just invited Luna to that party as friends, what the hell happened?"

Ron was always sort of pushy when it came to information. He had mellowed some, which I attributed to Poppy, but when he was upset, it was a lost cause. It would be easier to just tell him then to hem and haw over it.

"I did. We had a nice time and I walked her back to the Ravenclaw Tower," I knew my cheeks were flushed and Ron was definitely going to keep pressing. "We went inside and I don't know."

"Yes, you do know! Did you shag Luna in Ravenclaw Tower?" Ron managed to slurp his tea loudly and he hung on my every word.

I didn't want to talk about this at all. I didn't want to tell him how Luna had curled her hand around my tie and dragged me into her common room, just before she shoved me into the wall. I definitely didn't want to tell him how she immediately unbuckled my belt and sunk to her knees.

 _"L-Luna," Harry's voice was strangled with surprise and arousal._

 _"It's better this way, trust me," Luna smiled up at him and didn't waste a moment in grasping his slowly hardening member._

 _Harry's head fell back against the wall with a thunk and a low groan. Luna's warm mouth sucked lightly and his hips jerked with the sensation. He'd never understood the fuss when the boys were chatting away after Quidditch, until that moment._

Strangely, the memory seemed incredibly real and I was positive there were fingernails digging into my calves. I inhaled slowly and glanced quickly at my lap. Fucking Luna.

"Hello! Harry! Perhaps you should stop reminiscing and give me some details!" Ron slammed his fist onto the table and Luna chose that moment to swirl her tongue around the head of my cock.

"I uhm yes, that's exactly right, Ron," My legs were quaking and I nearly moaned.

"Wait, was that your first time then?"

"Ron! Do we really need to do this now?" My voice was strained and if Ron had been paying attention, he would have noticed. "Yes, yes it was."

"Did Ginny know this before she fucked off to France?" Ron scratched his head and I might have exhaled harshly.

I swallowed hard and whimpered slightly as Luna teased me. I knew she had nicked the cloak. I still couldn't believe she was being this brazen, but it was really, really hard to care. She had skill. She sucked, pulled, and manipulated better than anyone I could ever imagine. My bollocks were tingling and I gripped the edge of the table until my fingers were white. I couldn't hold on much longer.

"Cornwall," I squeaked.

"Cornwall, France, who cares, Harry? It's not here, that's what's important—" Ron rambled.

I didn't hear anything else he said. I dropped my hand into my lap and fisted Luna's dark blonde hair and my hips jerked. She smiled, I could feel her smiling as my cock was lodged in her throat and then, with a gentle squeeze, I definitely spurted into her mouth.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"Yeah actually, never better," I sagged in my chair and my forehead hit the table with such a thump I had a headache.

Ron frowned and there was actually a trace of suspicion in his eyes, but I shoved him my plate. The enticement of food would always be the best distraction for a Weasley, especially Ron. He dipped the remaining bit of toast into the pool of yellow yolk and sighed.

"I haven't tried to contact her. D'ya think she expects me too?" Ron wiped his mouth with his sleeve as Luna shifted beneath the table. There wasn't a need for him to explain whom he meant by _her_ , I knew.

"I don't know, Ron," I winced as Luna hastily shoved my wilted cock back into my slacks and pushed her hands away. "She's going through a difficult time. She thought he was dead. She knows I kept it from her."

"Yeah but it's not like you had a choice or anything. She should be thanking you or something. What happened? Can you tell me that much? I've been ridiculously busy with the Burrow and Poppy. I haven't even thought about her that much and I feel awful about it, really."

That was moment Luna chose to make her presence known, with violence. I probably shouldn't have laughed when Ron's face turned a lovely shade of purple. His eyes bulged and while he was obviously holding his breath, an absolutely horrid sound managed to escape his parted lips.

"Luna, was that really necessary?" I rubbed my scar and nearly braced myself for the pain that didn't come.

"Yes," She didn't offer anything more and I just held out my hand as she clambered to her feet. "He was being selfish and mean, so I squeezed his bollocks, and I might have twisted them a little."

"Remind me to never make you angry," I shuddered and chanced a glance at Ron.

He was crying. His face was scrunched harshly and tears were escaping his closed eyes. He moaned low and long, which sounded pitiful. I knew he was cupping his man bits and I couldn't blame him for that.

"I wonder if Hermione and Draco will attend the wedding," Luna climbed into my lap and entwined her arms around my neck.

I didn't know what Luna Lovegood was saying more than half the time. I didn't even care. She was different. She wasn't filled with a brooding intensity. There weren't expectations that she expected me to live up to. I could just be Harry. I could just be a dad to James. I'd be happier if she'd stop turning me down every fucking time I asked her to marry me, but I was trying to be satisfied with what we had.

"What wedding?"

"Oh Harry, were you lost again?" Luna leant forward, pressed her beautiful breasts into my chest, and nibbled my ear. "Arthur and Cissa, of course. Who did you think was getting married?"

"Well us, quite honestly. I don't understand why you won't marry me."

Luna rolled her cornflower blue eyes and pecked my cheek. I liked her affections, but she never answered a fucking question. She was an enigma. I would never tire of learning all her quirks and I wanted to keep her. Why didn't she want me?

"Oh, Harry," Luna Lovegood poked my nose and I really wanted to shake her a bit. "You haven't been forthcoming with the why. I've been diligent in plucking your aura, but there's an ever-elusive cloud and—"

I watched her eyes as she rambled on about her little creatures and their specific tasks. They were filled with such light and I felt the darkness recede. She was the sun on a stormy day, chasing away the angry thunder. She was the fresh breeze that reminded me I was alive. She was the future and I still had some toes dallying in the past.

"You're nothing short of my everything," I sighed into her hair and held her tight.

"Wednesday sounds lovely," Luna hopped off my lap and waved at Ron with a scrunch of her nose.

It took me a few moments to decipher her cryptic words. She had a habit of mumbling little rhymes in undertones as she tended James. I had grown used to the sound and missed it when it wasn't there.

"She said yes, Ron. She said yes," I felt my lips stretch into a wide grin and I wanted to shout with delight.

"Oh, is that what she did?" Ron growled. "Sorry, I have trouble understanding anything she says other than the fact she implied my dad is marrying Narcissa and she twisted my bits, Harry. She twisted my bits. I might never recover."

Ron still had a penchant for the dramatics, but I didn't care. Luna Lovegood had agreed to marry me. Everything else fell away after that. I didn't care that Ginny was pregnant. I didn't care that Arthur and Cissa were getting married. Hell, I didn't even care that Malfoy and Hermione were reunited. I was being selfish and I liked it.

"You'll be fine, Ron," I shrugged and set to clearing the table.

"Harry?" Ron lumbered to his feet and begrudgingly carried his empty plate to the basin. "Why was Luna beneath the table?"


	35. 35 - Draco

The light was much more painful than I had expected. Actually, I don't know what I was expecting, but listening to the blathering of Harry Potter definitely wasn't it. I supposed one could say my peaceful reprieve had come to a succinct conclusion.

I wasn't angry about it. I was quite exhilarated really. I was also terrified and I'm not afraid to admit it either. It was all very confusing and conflicting and everything you'd imagine it would be.

I didn't open my eyes. I contemplated it, but in the end, I decided against it. I had my reasons. I simply wasn't ready at that moment to face the world.

I could hear subdued murmurings around me and even felt the soft breeze of someone stepping too closely to my position on the floor. I assumed it was the floor. I assumed I was laid in the very same spot where Harry Potter struck my body with the Killing Curse, but I couldn't be sure.

"We should move him," The Minister for Magic grunted.

"Are you positive he's—" I didn't recognise the voice and I listened carefully as the half question hung in the air.

"It was the Killing Curse. Harry Potter is the only wizard to have survived it," The Minister's words were terse and he sounded angry, yet it was also subtle.

"Minister?" Harry Potter wasn't the snivelling child I remembered. His voice was strong and rung out with an echo in the room. "I'd like to do it."

I couldn't move, I knew that much. My entire body ached from the top of my head to the very tips of my toes. A convalescence period my arse, I was going to be laid up for months and without proper care, I might never regain of my limbs. There was a fleeting moment when I actually hated my godfather, but it passed just as quickly when Harry Potter harshly pressed his fingers against my throat.

"Are you trying to kill me again?" I scoffed and was thankful my voice portrayed the venom I felt.

"Clear the room!" The Minister for Magic's Sonorus Charm was earsplitting, to say the least, but there was a fair amount of shuffling before there was nothing more than the sound of breaths.

"Malfoy?"

Potter poked me with his wand and had I been at full capacity, I probably would have hexed him. Instead, I had to make do with yet another thinly veiled, sarcastic retort.

"Were you always this stupid?" My eyes rolled behind my lids and the temptation to open them was great.

"I can't believe it," Shacklebolt gasped beside me and I ever so slowly turned my head in his direction.

"Can we gush over the magical miracle of magic later and get me off the fucking floor?" I coughed and I felt as though my chest seized.

I felt droplets of liquid escape my lips and I would have wiped them away. While I was eerily conscious of my limbs, they refused to bend to my commands. I was at the mercy of my one-time sworn enemy and a man I barely knew.

"What do you think it was? Where should we move him?"

I was startled to hear the Minister deferring to Potter, but I suppose when you're the wizard who disposed of the Dark Lord, such things happen. I grunted my displeasure, but there was nothing more I could do. This predicament was going to grow old fairly quickly, of that, I was certain.

"The tunnels," I managed to croak.

I was in desperate need of water as well as medical attention. I wasn't used to relying on others to aid me. I am a Malfoy. I was always a Malfoy and while I was suffering from a horrifically debilitating bout of self-deprecation, it was over now. I was ready to fucking live.

"The Aurors haven't cleared the tunnels, Malfoy, that's out of the question," Potter scoffed at me and I promised myself I would punch him one day.

"Cleared them from what, Potter? Voldefuck is dead and his last remaining Death Eaters were so bloody pathetic Longbottom could have rounded them up himself." I whimpered in pain when the hard edge of a shoe struck my side.

"Neville's dead," Potter whispered and I would have felt bad if I wasn't in so much fucking pain.

"I'm sure that's horrible for you, but I'm not and I'd really appreciate a Healer or at the very least some Potions and something to drink."

I listened to the sound of footsteps walking around me until I grew dizzy from the mere sound of it. I supposed they were ruminating on the situation rather than dealing with it. I don't know why Potter wasted his time with so much thinking. Everyone knew Granger was the brain behind the Golden Boy.

"Why aren't you getting up?"'

"Obviously I am incapable, Potter," I grit my teeth together and listened to them crunch as I muttered one of the most difficult acknowledgements of my life.

"Should I get Hermione?"

Fuck, I didn't know how to answer that. I wanted to see her. I wanted to really see her. I wanted to hold her in my arms and never let go, but there was one glaringly obvious issue. My arms didn't work. My body didn't respond. I couldn't hold her. I couldn't touch her. I couldn't do anything other than be a burden and that wasn't fair to her. The soft handkerchief gently wiping my cheek was my first inclination that I was silently crying and I hated it.

"No, please don't. Not, not like this."

"All right," Potter whispered.

I couldn't see his green eyes, but I knew they studied me curiously. I could feel. I could feel everything and nothing, which is impossible to properly convey. My body was on fire with pinpricks of constant pain, but my heart was empty until the darkness consumed me once more.

* * *

Potter and Shacklebolt were especially helpful when it came to my accommodations. They didn't put up a fuss in the least and I appreciated that. I didn't want to step foot into the Manor again and I don't think anyone could blame me for that.

"Why here, Malfoy?" Potter was uncomfortably kind and I didn't know what to make of it.

The things I didn't know were really beginning to accumulate. It was terribly frustrating, but I knew if I pressed forward with all the questions I had, I would wish to seek out Granger. I couldn't do that, not yet. I needed to be more. I needed to be better. I needed to be many things and I was none of them.

"I can feel her here, Potter. Does that fact please you? This is the last niche in the tunnel before she emerged into the world. She ate at that table. She sat in that chair. She laid her head upon this feather tick. The last traces of her magic are here before they're lost on the wings of freedom."

Potter snorted and I knew I was perhaps slightly sentimental but was it truly necessary to mock me? Perhaps it was retribution for, well many things, but I wasn't about to ask. I was healing, yet my limitations were many.

It was a constant influx of Potions. They made me tired. They made my voice raspy. They made me dream in ways I'd never dreamed before, but I had the use of my arms again. It was worth it.

"Why do you want the Minister to meet us here?"

I listened to the singular chair scrape against the harsh stone and cringed. Over the course of years, my other senses had been heightened significantly. Potter once commented on a newer Potion enhancing everything in order to aid in my recovery. I didn't believe him until everything around me was achingly loud.

"I don't trust either of you, obviously," I tented my fingers and tapped them against each other incessantly. "I'm going to require more than your word."

"I'm not making an Unbreakable, Malfoy," I'm fairly certain Potter dropped his wand as the distinctive sound of wood clattering and rolling drowned out everything else.

My leg jerked and my eyelids fluttered. I almost broke my promise to myself in my excitement, yet in the last second, I held fast. It was frustrating to be confined to bed and brought memories to the surface that I'd rather forget.

"Mr Malfoy, you've requested my presence?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt's booming voice forced my hands to cover my ears and wait for the reverberations to end. My limbs were trembling and I was completely overwhelmed by the influx of sensations. I had lived in proverbial silence for seven years, which was just another reason to wait until I was better before seeing Granger.

"Minister, you've uhm, sorry I don't mean to overstep, but Malfoy here is on some very powerful Potions. They just so happen to—"

"Thank you, Mr Potter."

I exhaled a gust of relief upon his significantly lowered voice. My leg spasmed again and I think I might have smiled. I actually touched the corner of my mouth and it was slightly upturned.

"There's someone in the tunnel," My hoarse whisper broke the uncomfortable stillness around us.

"Impossible."

I imagined Shacklebolt puffed out his chest and looked down on me, but I wasn't wrong. I could hear slippery footfalls and grunts. I could hear harsh breaths and even muted squeals of terror. There was definitely someone in the tunnels and they didn't belong there.

"Fine, believe what you like," I scoffed. "I've requested your presence as I desire to procure a bond stronger than your word."

"What sort of bond, Mr Malfoy?"

"There's no need to have a hippogriff, Minister. I assure you, I would never present a nefarious scheme after the life I've lived. I simply wish to secure something with a little weight behind it. Perhaps a Wizard's Oath with a stipulation," I waved my hand and winced as the bumbling bloke in the darkened tunnels crashed into a nearby wall.

"Shh, I hear something."

"I told you there was someone in the tunnels," I pursed my lips and waited.

Potter shuffled his cumbersome feet and stepped out of the niche. I wager he didn't venture far and I was correct in my assumptions. He quickly shuffled back and I swore I could hear his ridiculous hair waving as he shook his head.

"No, there's nothing," Potter quipped with arrogance.

"Thank heavens Harry Potter is here to protect me."

"I didn't mean to frighten you," The Minister whispered and it was difficult to keep my biting retort contained. "We should transport you elsewhere."

"I'm not leaving the protections—"

"I don't care about the magicks. You've got to—"

"I don't have to do anything, Minister. You'd be hard-pressed to remove me from my family's estate without issue."

Potter remained silent while the Minister and I hissed at each other. I appreciated that and also despised the fact there was yet another moment of gratitude wasted on the man. He might not fully comprehend the Blood Magicks of Purebloods, but the Minister for Magic should have known better.

"Fine, I'm not going to argue with you. It's your life," Shacklebolt snarled.

His anger and powerlessness amused me. I might not have been remotely near my best, but I still wielded power. I must say I liked that. I also knew Granger wouldn't be impressed, but I tried not to dwell on her too much.

"About that Oath, Minister—"

* * *

Every single step I took was utter agony. It was too soon. I knew it was too soon, but I was always an impatient man. I was tired of the darkness. I needed the light. I needed Hermione.

There was only so much a Rejuvenation Potion could do. I needed something stronger, but requesting items had become a difficult subject. I hadn't enough knowledge of the deaths during the War. I couldn't ask mind you, and the information was never offered. I had quickly learned to avoid mentioning anyone on the off chance they were dead.

"The Murtlap Essence seems to have worked for you, Malfoy," Potter was being cocky again, but he was also testing me.

"Come now, Potter. It's going to take more than Murtlap Essence carefully combined with a Replenishing Potion to stump me," I had grown to enjoy our little sessions, not that I would admit to that or anything. I'm still a Malfoy.

"No wonder you were Snape's favourite. I always thought it was House loyalties, but you're actually quite adept at Potions. The Ministry could use a Master Potioneer—"

"Shut it. I can't even pretend to contemplate the idea of aiding the Ministry," My ankle twisted and I stumbled into the unforgiving stone with a low groan. "I live in darkness, Potter. I live in a damp cave rather than return to my family's home. I keep my eyes tightly screwed shut in order to protect myself and you want me to entertain the idea of brewing complicated Potions? I can't fucking walk properly for fuck's sake."

Potter didn't offer me a hand. He didn't utter an encouraging word. He did nothing and I liked that. It caused me to focus and I needed that. It was terribly easy to become overwhelmed by the influx of sensations, sounds, and even emotions.

"It's nearly time, Malfoy," Potter didn't say anything more, but I knew what he meant.

I listened to the Potion bottles clink together as he set them on the table. I held my breath as I heard the steady sound of his steps retreating. I exhaled slowly and sunk onto the feather tick where I convinced myself it smelled of her.

When I woke, I was alone. I spent most of my time alone. It gave me time to analyse myself more than anything else. I was still plagued by scarring memories. Half the time, I woke soaked in sweat with a lingering scream on my lips.

My thoughts always strayed to Granger in the moments when I first woke. After I wiped the spittle from my lips and used the corner of the tatty sheet to dry my face, it was always filled with her. I hated sleeping alone, she had ruined me.

There were moments when I nearly convinced myself she was there. Of course, it was nothing more than a damp quilt, but for those few seconds, it was her. Those moments kept me going as stupid as it sounds.

I wanted her, but it was more than that. I needed her and I really hated needing anyone. Hermione Granger reminded me what it was like to feel, what it was like to live. Fuck, I missed her and it hurt. I didn't think it would hurt. I knew she had to be hurting and I wanted to fix it, but what if she never forgave me? What if she decided her life was better without me in it? What if she was happy and then I turn up and ruin everything?

Potter and I had quite the row. I'm sure he told you all about it. I wasn't wrong. He wasn't wrong. There was no wrong, but there wasn't right either. Everything was muddled shades of grey and I was afraid.

My head pounded with every breath. Hermione Granger had my son. She'd given birth. She'd survived. She'd done nearly everything I wished for her, except find happiness.

I wanted that for her. I wanted that and so much more, but from the way Potter talked about her, she was stagnant. I didn't know how to properly mourn anyone, but it had been six months. It should have been better by then, shouldn't it?

I didn't want to think anymore and quickly fell asleep. It was a restless slumber and I woke many times. I kept expecting Potter to return and shout at me, but instead, there was a lingering scent I didn't recognise. It wasn't Granger's. It wasn't feminine, at least I didn't believe it was. I didn't hear anything, but my nostrils were filled with stale firewhiskey.

"I'm not supposed to be here," The voice was low and pain-filled.

My heart clenched in my chest. My hands curled into fists. I wondered how long it would take. I wondered how he would bypass Potter and the Ministry. I had my answer. It took him one hundred and fifty-three days.

"Zabini," I croaked.

I cleared my throat and tossed the damp quilt off my legs. I didn't know how I looked so it's not as though I could gauge his reaction, but I did hear a sharp burst escape his lips. The cotton trousers I pulled over my hips were not my usual wear, but I wasn't particular while living below ground like a heathen.

"I suspected," Blaise spat as he stepped closer. "It took me longer to piece everything together because of all the spirits. When I decided to pay the tunnels a visit, I was fairly certain something was amiss when Potter nearly lost his mind. I would have been here sooner, but I've been preoccupied with Hermione."

My breaths were ragged and despite the fact it was cool, I felt hot. I don't know when I had left the feather tick, but my back was pressed against the wall. I was comforted by the corner and slowly slid down the slick stone until I hit the ground. My knees were drawn to my chest and my arms hugged them quickly. It kept me whole.

"I brought you something," I flinched as metal bounced on the small wooden table. "You don't deserve it, but I'm not doing it for you."

"What is it?" My voice trembled and I'm fairly certain it cracked as well. That wasn't the question I wanted to ask, but I was terrified the truth would break my heart.

"I'm sure Potter's already informed you Hermione had the baby. I was there. Did you know that? No, I wager you didn't. She shouted at your mother. I wish I had seen it, but I heard it was bloody fantastic. What the fuck, Malfoy?"

I didn't know what to say to him, but I knew I had to say something. I also knew I was going to have to place my delicate ego to the wayside and confront my fears. I scrubbed my face with my palms and my chin jutted forward.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" I really tried to keep my tone even, but the acrimony was palpable.

"Maybe I am," Zabini snarled. "It wouldn't matter if I did anyway. You're it for her. She'll never move forward. She'll wander through life doing what she aught with dead eyes and it'll be your selfish fucking fault."

He was towering over me and I was suddenly angry. I wasn't positive that's what I felt, but then I felt my cheeks heat and knew. I hadn't felt anything beyond despondence and agony for months. I liked the way the fire coursed through me and I uncurled my weakened body and stood in a fluid motion.

"From the stench of it, I imagine your conversation with Potter didn't segue beyond your ability to keep your cock in your trousers and your sobriety in check. If you had bothered to have your head, you would have thought to fucking ask him why I stayed away, but no, you'd much rather paint me the villain," I poked his chest with my forefinger and felt vindication when he back stepped.

"I fucking couldn't, you wanker! Potter threatened me, therefore I lied. I lied to him. I lied to myself. I lied to her. It nearly fucking killing me, but I did it," Zabini's spittle struck my cheek and his foul firewhiskey breath wash over my face. "I held her as she sobbed into my chest. I couldn't tell her what I suspected. If I was wrong—" Blaise choked on his words and suddenly I felt awful about everything.

"I couldn't move. I knew I could see, but anything more than that was impossible," The explanations fell from my lips because he deserved them nearly as much as Granger did. "I could speak, but I couldn't even flex my fingers."

The words continued to fall from my lips and Zabini just listened. He grunted a few times and it was a signal to continue and I talked until I couldn't speak any longer. There was nothing left to say. There was no more to confess and I felt lighter, freer even.

"Let's go, Malfoy," Blaise yanked me to my feet and before I knew it, we were shuffling down the bloody tunnel.

"Wait, what are you doing? I can't leave, I'm not ready and—"

"Shut up. You're as ready as you're going to get," Blaise snorted.

He fumbled with his pockets and I wanted to struggle, but it was pointless. He was larger and stronger than I. It was easier to allow him to propel me along.

When the fresh air hit my face, I shied away from it. I was used to the dankness of my dark space. I didn't hate the freshness, but I didn't love it either.

"Where are we going?"

"I've procured a flat in Muggle London. I like it out there. No one bothers me. I'm taking you home with me, Malfoy. I'm going to fix you up right good. Then, we're going to see about getting you to Granger."

Granger. It was a whisper set to repeat. Granger. It was the anxious patter of my heart. Granger. It was freedom. I could do this. I would do this. She deserved that much.

* * *

"This smells like shit," I grumbled.

It didn't matter how many times I'd informed him, the response never varied. I for one believed he'd grow tired of my constant complaints, but nothing seemed to faze him at all. It was absolutely infuriating.

"I don't care if it smells like centaur dung, rub it in good," Blaise chuckled. "We haven't got all day. You've got to get a move on."

"Whoever thought to combine Star Grass Salve and Strengthening Solution should really consider working on their scents. No one wants to walk around smelling like the arse end of a Blast-Ended Skrewt," I did as I was told, but it wasn't enjoyable.

I didn't know my way around Zabini's flat and he liked to move things. I think part of it was he wished me to open my eyes, but I refused to yield. He would let me mark his walls and I wouldn't open my eyes. It was a delightfully frustrating arrangement.

"It's nearly your birthday," Blaise began and I felt a wave of apprehension. "Granger sent me an owl. Apparently, she's planning on visiting you. Don't scowl at me like that. I mean to say, she plans on visiting your gravesite."

I didn't waver on my feet. It was progress. Instead, I paused and dried my hair vigorously. It gave me time to gather my thoughts. Zabini never spoke without forethought, unless he was pissed and he definitely wasn't pissed.

"You're going to make me do this, aren't you?"

I made my way to the desk Blaise had shoved into the corner of the great room and toyed with the drawers. I knew there were parchment and quills. Even Blaise Zabini wouldn't be the sort to forego the necessities.

"You're going to do it because you know it's the right thing to do. You're going to do it because you know it's been long enough. You're healed enough. I'll go with you. I'll fucking Disillusion myself and stay by your side, but you've got to," Blaise sighed.

I heard the tinkling of glass and knew he was pouring himself a drink. I couldn't even object. I needed a drink as well, but spirits didn't mix well with my cocktail of Potions. I didn't need nearly as many as I did before, which was progress. I was nearly done with my regime and Blaise was right. There wasn't a need to prolong the inevitable. It was time to face Hermione.

* * *

"Did you send your owl? Have you got your wand? Now, it's normal to be nervous—"

Blaise Zabini was an overbearing mother if there ever was one. Of course, I wasn't half fool enough to actually utter such words and simply nodded. It didn't matter what I said anyway, he wasn't listening.

I knew from his movements he was flitting about his flat looking for his waistcoat. It wasn't hidden or anything of the like. He was simply nervous and couldn't see it lying beside me on the settee. I could have informed him, but what fun would that be?

My hands were clammy. My knees felt incredibly weak. I swallowed more times than was normal, but I was ready. I could do this.

"There's an owl pecking at your window," I calmly sipped my tea, though my insides churned with anxiety.

"Potter's out of sorts. Granger refused to hear him out and he's off to see your mum. We've got to go," He slammed his teacup into the sink basin and I waited for the shattering of glass that didn't come.

Zabini held my arm so tightly, I lost circulation. I swear I did. It tingled and ached, but the pressure of his iron grip was also comforting. It made me cognizant of the fact I wasn't alone, despite feeling that way for most of my life.

The harsh pull of Apparition made my head spin and I can't begin to express my gratitude for sticking with tea rather than a full breakfast. Zabini, on the other hand, was nursing yet another pounding headache from an overindulgence of spirits and Muggle women. He gagged a few times and I distanced myself.

"How close to the Manor are we?" I fingered the rough bark of a nearby oak, but it was impossible to place. It was only a tree.

"It's a short walk to the mausoleum, Malfoy," Zabini's voice was terribly soft, quiet even, and it concerned me. "You really should open your eyes."

"I don't, I don't think I should, not yet," I cleared my throat lightly and yanked at the stupid tie Blaise had insisted I wear.

"She's here."

My eyes flew open and that was a mistake. I shut them immediately and reeled from the piercing light and the sharp pain encompassing my head. I tried again, slowly with quickened breaths. It was difficult to focus, but through the milky haze of fresh eyes, I saw her.

She was walking slowly as if every step was torture. She paid careful attention to the bundle in her arms and leant down often to inhale. I could hear him fussing, my son and my feet began to move of their own volition.

I didn't hear Zabini's footsteps beside me, but I was only focused on her. Nothing else mattered. I watched her pause in order to admire the carvings on the stone and I smirked. She wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she didn't inspect everything she ever encountered in her entire life.

I frowned and stepped lightly on the grasses as I drew closer. Why she would pause at my father's resting place was beyond me. She'd never liked the man and the same could be said for him until I heard her speak.

"I didn't come here for this, but I realise now he's important as well. Lucius Malfoy was the bravest man I ever knew. Without him, you wouldn't exist…and it's strange to admit it when I know part of him detested me. It doesn't make him less brave. He was…exceedingly brave. I almost named you after him, but then I realised he wouldn't have liked that. Some would say there were braver men, but I have to disagree, for your sake. I'm sure you understand. He truly was the bravest man I ever knew."

I had words. I had beautiful words planned to say to her. I had gone over them so many times. They were perfect, but that's not what happened. It wasn't some sort of fairytale where the princess runs to the prince and everyone is surrounded by fairies or some such rot.

"That's absolutely ridiculous, Granger," I crossed my arms and smirked. "My father was the bravest man you ever knew? That's just as bad as Potter laying claim that Dumbledick and Severus were the bravest men in existence. I beg to differ."

I strode toward her then, with purpose. I didn't wait for her to acknowledge me. I didn't wait for Blaise to soften the blow. I didn't care. She was here. She was in front of me and it was long since time to hold her tight.

Granger didn't turn. She just sort of stood there and her breaths were short staccato gasps. My hands shook and they were fucking freezing, but I set them on her shoulders anyway. I inhaled against her curls and wondered if her hair was always a menagerie of browns.

"You're not real. You can't be real. You're a figment of my imagination, that's all there is to it," She whispered and clutched the baby to her chest.

Granger was trembling and I knew it couldn't be from the chill in the air. Ever so carefully, I applied pressure to her shoulders and turned her around. Her head remained down and I just wanted to see her eyes. I hadn't seen Hermione Granger in years, not with my eyes. I had seen her with my ears, with my hands, with my heart, but my eyes were something new.

I stroked her cheek with my fingertips as she held her breath. She still didn't look up at me. I was forced to tap beneath her chin and then finally, finally she raised her face.

"It feels pretty fucking real to me, Granger," I chuckled lightly and there she was.

Her lips were blush. Her cheeks gently flushed. Her hair, not quite as long as it had been when we were children, but much longer than the last time I felt her. Her eyes, her big brown eyes were wide with trepidation that then segued into utter and complete astonishment.

"Draco," She breathed and my name never sounded so fucking sweet.

The baby fussed and I wanted to gaze at him. I wanted to hold him, hold her, and never let go. I also didn't want to break the tenuous glance between us.

I stepped closer to her and Granger didn't move. She didn't speak. She just stared up at her with her lips slightly parted. Her eyelids fluttered when I cupped her cheek and fuck, I was so nervous I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

I expected her to either rain violence upon my head, or snog me senseless. I didn't know what to do with stunned silences. Therefore, I lowered my forehead to hers and we just breathed. Isn't that silly? After all the time that had passed and all the words that desperately needed to be said, we simply stood there and stared at each other.

The baby let loose with a hearty squall and I couldn't resist any longer. He was beautiful. Gods, he was beautiful. The downy blond hair smattered across his pale head was mine. His button nose was Granger's, and fuck, he even had her lips. He was perfect and I had missed too much. I couldn't miss any more.

"Is this?" I faltered and wiped the tears from his damp cheek. "Is this our…son?"

"I'm dreaming, aren't I? I mean, you're not really here. You can't really be here, can you? I don't understand, I don't, but I heard and Harry said—"

"Granger, I'll explain everything. You'll get angry with me. You'll shout at me a bit. You'll be ridiculously angry with Potter and probably the Minister as well, but it won't matter because I'm fucking here. Now please tell me, is this our…child?" I wanted to kiss her, desperately, but I didn't.

"Of course, yes, I mean, his name is Henry," Granger patted his bottom and bounced him lightly and I was entranced. "Henry Eltanin Malfoy."

She remembered. She fucking remembered. I don't know why that surprised me. She's Hermione Granger and she's probably never forgotten anything in her entire life, but the fact that she remembered an infinitesimal fact for me, was mind-boggling.

"I should have told you, Granger. I'm sorry I didn't. I've regretted it for every moment we've been apart. I don't want to be presumptuous, but if you still feel the way you did for me, I'd rather not be parted again," I licked my lips and gulped.

"Told me what? Told me you weren't dead?" Hermione frowned and I hated the way it looked on her face. I didn't want her displeased with me. I wanted her to understand.

I wasn't the sort of man, the sort of Wizard to simply spill forth every thought or every emotion I'd ever experienced. I wasn't raised to be forthcoming, but she deserved to know the truth. She deserved everything I could give her and I could give her plenty, but she was worth more than galleons.

"You asked me to tell you when I had Blaise take you away, but I couldn't," Fuck this was much more difficult than I thought it would be, "I honestly didn't think I was going to make it out of there alive, and I nearly didn't. I didn't want to tell you the truth because I didn't want you to hold onto it for the rest of your life. I wanted you to be happy, Granger," I finally managed to hold her face in my hands and our lips were a hairsbreadth apart. "I love you. Please don't cry, love."

It wasn't as if I'd never seen her cry before, but this was so very different. This wasn't under the cover of darkness with silent shaking as I held her. This wasn't soothing whispers that segued into writhing and moans of ecstasy.

This was downcast eyes and shoulders shaking. This was burnt sienna curls that stuck to dampened cheeks. This was fingers that trembled as they tucked the blanket around my whimpering son and I couldn't take it.

"Zabini? Are you, are you still here? I don't know what to do," I squinted over my shoulder and then he was there.

I ignored the way his fists twisted against his eyes as he strode forward. He wrenched off his ascot and shoved it into my hands. I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it, but he bumped my shoulder with more force than I thought was necessary.

"Dry her eyes, say words, and make it stop!" Blaise attempted to lift my son from her arms, but she twisted away from the gesture.

Blaise never handled female upset well. I definitely didn't hate the idea of drying her tears, but I wanted more. I wanted so much more, so I kissed her.

My fingers tangled in her twisted curls as I held her head in place. I wanted to feel her body against mine, but I wasn't about to risk my child. Instead, I delicately brushed behind his head and ignored the irritating pops of Apparition. Granger's lips softened beneath mine and yet her shoulders shook harder. I was so fucking confused.

"Malfoy, hang on," Zabini wrapped his arms around us and just as my insides were squeezed with the force of Side-Along Apparition, I saw my mother.

Her blonde hair was blowing in the cool breeze and her lips were parted. I watched her grow hazy as we disappeared and hoped she wasn't alone. I wanted to see her, but I had to tend to my family first.

* * *

We definitely didn't land in Zabini's flat. In fact, I recognised nothing. It was easy to deduce it was Granger's home, but only from the baby items scattered about. There wasn't a bit of personality anywhere and that troubled me.

"Say something," I implored her.

"What the hell, Blaise," Hermione huffed angrily and completely ignored me.

She sat on a hideous green settee and bared her breast. I was instantly angry until I heard the telltale sounds of an infant suckling and at least Zabini had enough sense to avert his eyes. I was flabbergasted and mesmerised by the sight. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

"You two are going to work out your fucking issues. I can't take it anymore!" Blaise literally stamped his foot. "I've listened to your laments for months, be happy! Hell, be angry with him, just be something. I'm at my wit's end with your dead eyes and silences. He's here. He's alive. He's a wanker, yes. He kept things from you, yes. It was for your own good! What did you expect him to do? He couldn't even fucking move! Was he just supposed to have Potter Apparate him to the Burrow of all places and declare himself alive? He was supposed to rely on you to hold his cock while he pissed into a jar?"

I felt sort of vindicated that Zabini was properly stating the facts. I liked to see the disbelief wash across her face as she eyes flicked back and forth. She was ruminating on his words and then she looked at me. She studied me and I wondered if she could see the fear in my eyes. I wondered if she could see the blotches on my cheeks, the bags beneath my eyes and the obvious loss of muscle in my limbs.

"It's true, isn't it?" Hermione's eyes narrowed, yet she wasn't terse with me. "You look awful, you best sit before you crumple."

She might have gestured toward the armchair, but I definitely sat beside her on the settee. I had gone too long without her. I had been stubborn and prideful and I wasn't going to allow her to escape my grasp. I didn't care if she didn't want me any longer, I was fairly certain I could convince her if given enough time.

"You might not trust me to tell you the truth, but Zabini wouldn't lie to you, not about that," I risked her ire and dropped my arm across the back of the settee. "Could I, I mean would you let me—"

Gods, I wanted to hold him. I was also afraid I would break him. He was so small. He was so new. He was part of me. He was part of Granger. He was us and that was precious.

Hermione didn't say a word. Instead, she sighed and nodded her head. I held my breath as she detached him from her breast and wiped the thin milk from the corner of his slack lips. My fingers grazed across her shoulders as I removed my arm, but she didn't stiffen or draw away from me.

"Be careful with his head," She whispered as she set him in my arms and I fell in love.

I watched Henry breathe and found myself holding my breath as I did so. I uncovered his tiny little hands and counted his fingers, carefully, so as not to wake him. I resisted the urge to do the same with his toes, but it was difficult and I could feel Hermione's eyes on me as I held him.

"I'm so glad you didn't name him Scorpius. He doesn't look like a Scorpius at all."

I leant down and my nose touched his forehead as I inhaled. I don't know why I did that, but I'm so glad I did. There was something remarkably soothing, comforting even, when it came to holding him close. It was better than chocolate and my anxiety lifted.

"Your mother was quite insistent. I didn't want to share his name until I visited you and I put it off. I didn't want to accept what I believed was the truth of the matter," She smoothed his blonde hair and Henry squirmed in his sleep. "I knew something was wrong. I knew Harry wasn't being forthcoming with me. I knew Blaise had lied, but I never thought it would be this."

"I am sorry," I tore my eyes from my son and continued to be struck by her beauty. Perhaps she was always beautiful and I hadn't realised. Perhaps she was beautiful because I loved her. Perhaps it didn't matter at all. "I'm sorry I hurt you when I sent you away. I'm sorry you continued to hurt afterwards. I'm sorry you had to do this alone. I'll make it up to you, if you let me."

Hermione bit the corner of her bottom lip then. I'd like to say I knew I had her, but I couldn't. I didn't. I wasn't sure and I didn't want to be filled with elation just to have it stripped from me.

She carefully took Henry from my arms and I didn't want to let him go. I was riveted by his every movement and I hoped she understood. My heart caught in my throat when she stood and I steeled myself for the empty space that didn't come.

Instead, she patted his back until he gurgled a bit and set him in the cot furthest from the small window in her sitting room. Hermione looked to Blaise and I was jealous. Of course, it went to reason they would forge some sort of friendship, a bond even, but I wanted her to choose me.

"Malfoy, you need your Potion," Blaise thrust a small amber bottle into my open hand and I sighed as I downed the contents.

"What, what is that? What does he need? What's wrong with him?"

Under different circumstances, Hermione's growing hysteria would have warmed my heart. It probably would have amused me as well, but it wasn't the time to needle her. She cared about me. She must in order to have that shrieking sort of quality to her voice.

"Granger, he was struck with the Killing Curse. He's not Potter. There's only so much a body can take, even if they are magical," Blaise rolled his dark eyes heavenward and searched the room desperately for spirits. "Look, I need a drink. You haven't got any drinks. Are you going to forgive him and shag him senseless or are you going to hex him and force me to whisk him away? I really need you to make up your mind."

I couldn't help myself. I laughed. It wasn't long or particularly loud before I choked it off, but it was long enough for Granger to shoot me a particularly scathing glower. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot and gods, I had missed her.

"I'm not going to hex him. There's a pub in town. You don't look well," Hermione's arms wrapped around her torso and I remembered the gesture well.

"Malfoy?" It was kind of him to pretend to ask me, but he was already edging toward the door.

"She said she wouldn't hex me, Zabini. I'll be fine."

He nodded quickly and mumbled something about returning in the morning, but I couldn't be sure. The instant he was gone the air between us was heavy with tension and I hated it. It reminded me of the beginning. It reminded me of the first few days Hermione had spent in my cell as she held my hand. I didn't want to recall those moments. It hurt to remember.

"I am so angry with you," Hermione snapped. "Do you have any idea what I went through? I've been a mess. I shouted at your mother."

She covered her face with her hands and I couldn't bear it any longer. I leapt off the settee and crossed the room faster than she could blink. I grasped her shoulders and yanked her into my chest. Hermione struggled, but I refused to yield. I wasn't going to let her go.

I dragged her toward the settee and settled her on my lap, despite her obvious ire. I buried my face in the curls that had settled near her throat and pretended I couldn't feel her breasts flattened against my chest. She gasped when I placed my lips beneath the delicate bit of skin below her ear and I could feel her heart pounding furiously.

When I kissed her, it was different than what was shared over my faux resting place. It was filled with desperation and mingled with tears. Her lips tasted just as sweet as I remembered and I wanted all of her.

"What do you want from me, Draco?" Hermione's salty tears ran between our lips and I held her tighter. "I mourned for you and now you're just here. You're alive. Blaise knew it. Harry knew it, but I didn't know. No one bothered to tell me and I don't know what I'm supposed to do about any of this. You know much I hate not having the answers!"

Her blouse was gaping open and I was afforded a delectable view of her milky breasts spilling over her brassiere. I probably shouldn't have scraped my fingernails along her spine until she gasped. I probably shouldn't have unclasped her bra and pushed her blouse from her shoulders, but she didn't resist my overtures.

In fact, her fingers were hard at work on the buttons of my shirt and I sighed to feel her tiny hands against my skin. I hastily shoved her skirt up her thighs and dug my fingers into her ample arse cheeks in order to press her against my throbbing erection.

"I need you," I growled in her ear and I heard her breathy little gasp before she muffled it against my lips. "I love you. Tell me you still love me, Granger. Tell me."

This wasn't what I had planned. I had many, many dreams of taking Granger, and none of them included shamelessly rutting against her on a settee. I wasn't going to complain about it. I wasn't a complete idiot.

Hermione pushed at my shoulders and my eyes widened with alarm until she pushed me over. Her franticness was contagious and our clothes easily fell to the wayside. I paused for a moment and revelled in the feel of her against me. My throat was suddenly scratchy and I was overwhelmed with emotion.

Her body was softer than I remembered and I liked it. She felt healthy rather than the skin and bones I remembered. Her breasts were fuller and much more responsive than I remembered. At least, it seemed that way as I hefted them in my hands and she moaned low and long.

"I need you," She crooned as her hair fell into my eyes. "You're here. You're really here. I'm not dreaming."

"I'm here. I'm never leaving you again," The promise was in my words and I prayed she believed me.

I was hesitant as my fingers dallied on her thighs. Hermione straddled me then and every sound that escaped my lips was a jumbled gargle of ecstasy. When I caressed her folds, her hips jerked against my movements.

I stared up at her and it was everything. I didn't regret my decision to wait. My first memory of renewed eyesight would always be of her. The vision of her naked and trembling on top of me would be etched into my memory always.

I wanted to pay homage to every nook and cranny. I wanted to cover every inch of her skin with sloppy wet kisses. I wanted to snog her until our lips ached, but I couldn't wait any longer and from the looks of it, neither could she. Hermione wrenched my hand away from the delightfulness of her arousal soaked lips and sunk onto my cock.

I knew I wasn't going to last. It would have been impossible. I could see her. I could feel her. It was sensory overload at it's finest and I was absolutely determined that she would be satisfied. My ego demanded it. She deserved it.

I had never witnessed Hermione Granger coming undone with my own eyes. It was a magnificent sight to behold. Her lightly tanned skin smattered with the lightest of freckles along her shoulders was covered in a flush that gave her a glow reminiscent of sunset. Her amber curls were damp ringlets that kissed her shoulder blades. Her pink lips were puffed, swollen, and parted while the guttural moans that filled the air drove me closer to the edge.

"What do you want from me?" Hermione pleaded with me between hungry kisses after she collapsed on my chest and finally, finally I had the answer.

Her thick lashes fluttered and I knew she was utterly exhausted. I wasn't ready for her to sleep. I wasn't ready for the day to end. I was ready for my life to start.

"Tell me you love me," I grunted as my softened cock slipped from her and I adjusted our position on the narrow settee.

Hermione's knobby chin poked my chest bone and she blinked up at me lazily. Her head tilted to the side and despite the fact there were dried tears on her cheeks, the fire of her anger was gone. The corner of her lips twitched and I waited.

"You can't ever leave me again, Malfoy," She began. "I couldn't bear it. It isn't remotely logical to love someone as much as I love you. I just—"

I leant up and kissed her. It was just a gentle sweeping of my lips against her, but it held more emotion than I'm capable of expressing. Hermione smiled then, but there was trepidation lingering in the set of her shoulders and the tenseness of her body.

My thumbs brushed over her cheeks and pecked her lips once more. I could do this. The thought had never entered my mind in the before. I was fairly certain I would not, could not survive and yet there I was. There wasn't a need to waste any more time.

With my forehead pressed against hers and our naked bodies nearly one, my lips parted, and the words simply spilt forth. "Marry me."


	36. 36 - Hermione

I'd like to say it's been easy, but it hasn't. It was easier when we were trapped within the confines of our damp little dungeon cell. It was easier when we relied upon each other, when we only had each other. It was much more difficult to face the world head-on and together.

We fought incessantly, about everything, about nothing and everything in between. I still harboured a fair bit of animosity toward him for his secrecy. I tried, but there were some days when it wasn't enough and I degenerated into angry shouting.

His mother, dear gods, his mother was more than a thorn in my side. She had lodged there with the intents of an Unforgivable and I swear she wished nothing more than to drive me utterly mad. If It wasn't illegal, I probably would have used a few on her myself.

I don't know what happened, not really. We had forged a bond, at least I believed we had, while Malfoy was imprisoned. It seemed all such feelings of affection were effectively wiped from Narcissa's memories the moment Draco returned.

I was no longer Hermione. I was Ms Granger and the disdain that dripped from her judgemental pureblood lips made me wish to heap violence upon her head. She interfered with everything and Draco did nothing to stop her. I'm not quite sure he could. I'm not quite sure he wanted to stop her and that's what bothered me the most.

"Granger? Where the hell—" Draco muttered as he wandered down the corridor and I didn't utter a sound. "Are you hiding again? My mother specifically said, oh there you are."

I glowered at him from the safety of my window seat as I nursed Henry. There were moments when I wished I'd sent Draco home. I wished he'd stay in her dowager home with her. I missed the silences, but then it physically pains me to think of him not here. It's all very confusing and I don't like it, not one bit.

"Hiding? I'm not hiding. I'm avoiding, which is for the best where your mother is concerned," I was surly and made no efforts to hide my displeasure.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked her to relay the message. I knew she would just cock it up," He sighed and Henry released my nipple with a pop simply to smile up at his father. "Is he finished?"

I huffed and quickly passed off Henry to Draco's waiting arms. As much as the situation was trying on my patience, I couldn't say anything disparaging about Draco's parenting. He doted on Henry and loved him with as much ferocity as I did.

"Why was she here? I thought we agreed—"

"I know we did. Zabini was supposed to do it but he was beyond incapacitated and there's only so much a Sobering Potion can do. I honestly believed she'd simply send an owl. I would have done it if I could have, but I was," Draco rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes.

It was one of the many ways he grounded himself. It was little things that set him off more than anything. He had unceremoniously tossed all of Henry's rattles in the bin and I hadn't argued with him. I had seen what the little sounds did to him and it wasn't worth it.

"Where did you go?" I softened my voice and watched the shudder roll through him.

"I had Potter take me to the Ministry. It was awful. There were entirely too many people and I nearly lost it in the lift. I just needed to relinquish the Manor. I don't want it. I don't want to live in it. I don't want to subject my family to it and I've plans to burn it to the ground," Draco shoved my knees and sat beside me in the window seat with Henry against his chest.

I released a harsh breath of relief. I sagged against him and winced when Henry grabbed a handful of curls. Under different circumstances, it would have been a picturesque moment.

"Cissa said you were taking action in regards to Henry," My voice wavered and I didn't care that I sounded weak. "She said you wanted to claim him because I...because I wouldn't marry you and—"

"No."

Draco sounded angry and that wasn't like him. He was soft spoken with a hint of sarcasm, but even in the midst of a row, he never quite sounded angry. His arm was gentle as he pulled me closer to him and it was only then I knew he wasn't angry with me.

"You know I love you. It's obvious. I just think we should take a little time to learn about each other without all those other things hanging over our heads," I carefully extricated myself from his arms and paced the bedchamber. It helped clear my head. "I know what I've offered isn't enough. I know you want a family and a wife and more children and I want them too, I do, but Draco—"

"Granger, stop," Draco ignored the milky spittle decorating the shoulder of his grey button-up and continued to gently pat Henry's back. "You're marrying me. You're wearing the ring Zabini helped me pick out. We live together. We've a child. I'd like to have more children. I'm not spending another six months in this tiny cottage. You can call it cosy all you like, it is absolutely minuscule and while I am quite a fan of small spaces, I want Henry to have more."

I wanted to shout at him. I wanted to pummel him a bit too. I hated it when he was right. I hated being wrong. I hated not having all the answers. I hated not being the best. I hated being pathetic as well, and I was.

"What were you really doing at the Ministry?" I waited while Draco wiped down Henry's face and set him in the cot before I asked again.

"You're too inquisitive for your own good. You couldn't just take me at my word, could you? I bloody well told you I went there in order to begin the process to relinquish the Manor, but that's not good enough for you, is it?" Draco's eyes were darkened with anger and I was suddenly nervous.

I held up my hands and backed away from him, but there wasn't anywhere to go. My journey ended as my knees struck the four-poster bed and I sat. I tucked my hair behind my ear and reclined upon the bed with my arms over my head as I stared at the ceiling. It was easier to speak to him sometimes if I didn't have to look at him.

"Some nights I wake up in the midst of a silent scream," I began. "Some nights I wake with my shoulders shaking and all I can see is Harry telling me how sorry he is. Other nights, I'm still in that damp cell and Blaise is telling me he's sorry as I tend your wounds. I can't seem to get away from any of it and it isn't fair. It isn't fair to you, that's what I mean. I'm a strong woman dammit, but in the night, in the night I'm not and I hate that I wake you. I want to be a better me. I want to be me without your mother telling me everything I'm doing wrong and the Minister begging me to work for the Ministry. I don't want it. I don't want any of it."

I felt the bed sink at the corner and I closed my eyes. I knew Draco reclined beside me and he was looking at me. I could feel his warm breath against my elbow and his fingertips caressing my cheek.

"I wanted to create a trust for Henry," Draco whispered and I sighed when he pulled up my old cotton t-shirt in order to rest his hand on my stomach. "I couldn't do that without claiming him as my heir. Potter helped me push it through the proper channels and I am responsible for lining many, many pockets with innumerable galleons to keep it out of the Prophet."

"Is that it?" His thumb dragged to and fro and it was difficult to concentrate.

"I also split the Malfoy fortune and if my mother had a say she would definitely lose her mind. She has her personal vault and personally, I think it's unseemly to dip into the Malfoy coffers to pay for her lavish wedding to Arthur. It was a devil of a time, but I've revoked her access," Draco pushed my shirt over my unbound breasts and fondled them carefully. "My father's vault passed to me and in turn, I passed it to Henry. The Malfoy fortune dwindled significantly during the War, but we'll never notice. I've set aside two other vaults for unnamed children and let me tell you the Ministry does not look kindly upon wizards who wish to stipulate their female children are due an equal inheritance."

"Draco," I sighed as he pushed my worn second-hand pyjamas down my thighs, "you don't have any female children unless there's something you're not telling me."

"We will," He breathed as he pushed open my legs. "I quite like the idea of a daughter. The few remaining house elves were given to my mother, except for two. They're very dear to me and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't upset them. Whimsy raised me more than my mother did, and Petal is her daughter."

"You're very sure of yourself, Malfoy," It was difficult to form proper thought with the way he dragged his lips across my goosefleshed skin. "Additional children when our son isn't even a year is very ambitious."

"I do so love to practice," He crooned and his tongue flicked against my hardened nipple. "I'm tired of waiting for you to be ready."

I groaned in frustration. It definitely wasn't the time to have the great Marry Me Debate. Why couldn't he let it go and keep doing that thing with his tongue? I'll tell you why. He's Draco Malfoy and he doesn't know how to be the least bit patient.

I was on top of him, suddenly, rocking my hips and giving him a reverent look. He was inside me and his pupils were blown. His fingers dug into my hips before one hand strayed to my lazily bouncing breasts.

"You're perfect," he breathed. "In this moment, right now, you are perfect."

I didn't have any words. All I could do was breathe, pant out tiny cries, and continue to lock eyes with him. No one has ever looked at me like before. No one will ever look at me like this again. Only him. Only him, until it becomes a chant and I couldn't hear anything else.

* * *

"I don't want to go," I was being obstinate and I knew it.

"I know you don't. I'm asking you to do it anyway," Draco hovered over Henry and I would have thought it sweet any other time. "I went to Potter's ridiculous wildflower wedding. I stood there with a fucking wreath of flowers on my head. I had a panic attack from the throng of guests and I did it for you."

It wasn't like Draco to purposefully recall his moments of weakness and I cringed. It had been absolutely awful for him. I hated myself a bit for asking him to accompany me to Harry and Luna's wedding, but I wasn't comfortable socialising with anyone since Draco's return. I wanted to soak up every moment I could and I didn't want to share him. I was selfish and I wasn't sorry about it either.

"I apologised for that, Draco. Careful, he's—" I gasped as Henry bounced in place and released his hold on the side table.

"I'm right here. I'm not going to let him fall. Would it kill you to trust me?" Draco's stormy eyes rolled heavenward and I balled my fingers into fists.

I refused to relive the past. I refused to spit forth vile, hateful words. I refused to snarl angrily because he had lied to me for months. I understood why he had lied. He wasn't wrong. I would have been utterly and completely overwhelmed and sought to tend him when I could barely tend myself. I would have resented him and sometimes I still do.

He had proved himself over and over again. It was wrong of me to attempt to quantify his remorse. Draco Malfoy loved me. He loved Henry. He wanted to marry me. He wanted to build a life with me and I was the one procrastinating our life. Gods, I needed to stop looking backwards at everything that had gone wrong and grasp the future with both hands.

"I don't want to see Hannah," I finally admitted.

"I don't want to see her either!" Draco's raised voice startled Henry and I winced as his head fell toward the sharp corner of the side table. "I met with her one time. It was a mistake and I don't wish to repeat it. Ever," Draco scooped Henry into his arms and tickled his tummy.

"Y-you saw her?" I closed my eyes and vowed not to lose my temper.

"I told you I did. You obviously weren't listening at the time. You kept interrupting me to tell me about yet another owl my mother sent demanding something or other," Draco carefully set Henry in his high chair and my heart softened.

I loved to watch them interact. The bond between them was so strong it almost made me jealous. Almost. It wasn't the least bit fair that Henry's first word was 'dada' despite all the time he and I had spent together. I knew my son loved me, but what Draco and Henry had was special.

"Na-na-na-na," Henry chanted impatiently as he bounced in his chair and Draco smiled.

"Banana? Yes, alright."

I watched him move toward the kitchen, but there was still tension in his shoulders. It was difficult to wait for him to address me, but I managed. I didn't like to push him when he was quiet. I knew he liked to formulate his thoughts, especially when everything was jumbled.

"If you really want to go—"

"She was visiting with my mother, if you can imagine it," Draco interrupted me as he laid thick slices of banana before Henry. "It was uncomfortable for all parties really. I couldn't get out of there fast enough and from the looks of it, she felt much the same. Her son looks eerily like Longbottom, did you know that?"

I was so bloody confused. I had expected some sort of sordid secret, but it was nothing. It was absolutely nothing. It was probably nothing more than Hannah gulping nervously and Draco avoiding eye contact. I felt sort of stupid, but then he was holding me so tight and nothing else mattered.

"I was so jealous of her," I sniffled into his chest while simultaneously detesting my weaknesses. "I hung on her every word when she spoke of you."

"Of course you did, I'm irresistible," Draco murmured into the top of my head without a trace of conceit.

I hated my newfound insecurities. I hated the wave of jealousy whenever he spoke of his past. I hated the way I woke up and immediately reached for him. I hated that somewhere along the way he had become my strength when I had once been strong on my own, but gods, did I love the way he loved me.

"I don't much like crowds any longer," I sighed.

"You dragged me to Potter's wedding," Draco scoffed.

"It was Harry. It's different. I've known him since forever. He wasn't silently judging us because we didn't mingle. He sat us in the bloody corner because if anyone can understand our issues, it's Harry."

I attempted to push away from him, but Draco refused to release me. In fact, he held me so tightly it began to ache. He twisted and lifted me into his arms before he sat us on the settee. I didn't waste my time struggling, it was pointless. There was always a method to his madness.

"Whimsy will tend Henry. You'll wear a pretty little frock. We'll smile tightly for the photographer's I'm positive my mother has hired on. We'll drink entirely too much. We'll snicker at the guests. We'll hide in the shadows. My mother will be so fucking busy playing the perfect hostess and the adoring bride, she won't care when we slip away in the night," Draco kissed my temple and he did paint such a pretty picture with his sweet words. "I've got plans for you, Hermione."

There was a nervous quaver to his voice and it piqued my curiosity. I closed my eyes as Draco's hand drew lazy circles on my back. The gentle beat of his heart soothed the panic laced anxiety that had seeped deep into my bones.

When I woke, I was alone and I was cold. I missed the heat of his body against me and the caftan Draco had tossed over me was a poor substitute. The cottage was eerily silent and it made me instantly wary.

I slowly shuffled toward the kitchen in search of my family, yet the deep timbre of Blaise Zabini's voice gave me pause. I hadn't heard a peep from Henry and frowned. The grandfather clock Cissa had insisted was a gift caused me to jump as it struck the late hour.

"Are you positive this is going to work? I'm fairly certain Granger doesn't like surprises," Blaise groaned and I smiled on the other side of the door.

"I've worked hard on this. You're not going to ruin it for me," Draco sounded agitated and I pressed my hands against the door. "Fuck, I wish I knew the exact moment she was thrust into my fucking cell. I feel like it would mean more if it was at the specific time. I know it sounds ridiculous. I know it does, but she held my hand, Zabini. In my darkest hour, she knew exactly who I was and despite it all, she held my hand."

I imagined Draco was angrily pacing our small kitchen and Blaise was scowling. I assumed the hidden bottle of firewhiskey had been cracked open and Whimsy was watching over Henry as he slept. I was torn. I wanted to burst into the kitchen and interrupt them as much as I wished to eavesdrop.

"You want to start your new beginnings based upon your actual beginning. It's sort of sweet in a dark and twisted sort of way. I wouldn't expect anything less, Malfoy," Blaise groaned and I heard the tinkling of ice in a tumbler. "Midnight. It was always midnight. Midnight was when she was thrust into your cell. Midnight was always when you scraped your grody nails into the wall to mark the passage of days. Fucking midnight, Malfoy, I can't give you more than that."

"That's perfect actually. Potter's already agreed and—"

"Wait, you want me to put up with Potter? I thought we were friends," Blaise grumbled and I couldn't help but smile at his theatrics.

"Shut up, would you? If it wasn't for Potter," Draco sighed heavily, "look, just be nice alright? If you can't do it for me, then at least do it for her. I know you care about her."

I slid down against the wall and settled onto the floor. I probably should have interrupted their male bonding time. I probably should have done many things, but instead, I closed my eyes and listened to their conversation with a slight smile painted on my lips.

"You swore you wouldn't use that against me. I'll have you know I've been sort of dating a very nice Muggleborn, so you keep your opinions about my feelings toward Granger to your fucking self. It's not like that anymore and I refuse to discuss it with you. Now, tell me more about your mother's ridiculous wedding extravaganza and are you certain this is going to work?"

I was suddenly nervous. I didn't want to know anymore. I couldn't say there were nefarious plans afoot, but there was obviously something going on and I didn't want to know, which was strange to admit to myself considering my affinity for gathering knowledge.

"It's got to, Blaise," Draco groaned and I struggled to my feet, determined to make my entrance when he continued. "Everything hurts. The blue in the sky is too bright. The trees are too green. Nothing is the way I remember it and everything is just so fucking bright. I miss the days when I didn't have to think and only had to feel. I listened and learned how to manoeuvre without a line of sight. Granger, Hermione I mean, she makes everything make sense. When I'm in a crowded environment and I feel like my heart is being squeezed and the sweat is dripping down my back, she grasps my hand and I know I'll be alright. I spent seven years in the dark, Zabini, and Hermione is my light."

I didn't hesitate. I pushed through the door and collided into his hard chest with a sob lodged in my throat. My arms were locked tightly around his neck and still, I wasn't close enough.

"I love you," I rasped into his ear until his arms came around me and the stiffness left his shoulders.

"Granger was eavesdropping," Blaise snorted.

I could feel Draco's chest rumble, though I couldn't be certain if it was from amusement or otherwise. His hand smoothed my curls and I was just grateful he didn't attempt to remove me from his person. It was one thing to be ridiculously affectionate in private, it was quite another to display them in front of others. His staunch upbringing still had a tendency to rear its ugly head, but he was trying.

"Of course she was," He sighed and I managed to lift my head long enough to quickly peck his lips.

"Yes," I whispered.

I placed my palms on his warm cheeks and stared into startlingly grey eyes that could see into my soul. I don't know what I had been waiting for. I don't know what sort of sign I believed I needed before making a lifelong commitment to him, but I was done with it.

Draco's brow furrowed and he quirked his head slightly to study me. I was absolutely unwavering and repeated the single most powerful word in our relationship once more. It was the only word he had wished to hear from me for months. It was the word he expected to hear when he woke me one morning just after our reunion and slipped the ring on my finger. It was everything. It was nothing. It was our world colliding into each other until the sun ceased to shine.

"Say it," Draco implored as his forehead dropped to mine.

"Yes, I'll marry you," I offered a tentative smile and then he was kissing me.

Our lips collided in a torrid menagerie of pent-up emotion that cascaded over us in a perfect waterfall. I swear his heart beat in perfect harmony with mine and I didn't want to imagine a life that didn't have this moment in it. I didn't need to properly assess my feelings. I didn't need to take time to get to know him. I did know him. He hadn't changed and I hadn't either. The love that was there had not altered, in fact, it had grown stronger which I didn't even know was possible.

"About fucking time," Blaise Zabini coughed into his hand, but even his crass nature couldn't destroy the overwhelmingly massive wave of emotion and encompassed us.

* * *

"I still can't believe I'm here."

I grumbled quite often actually and nursed my glass of Prosecco near the shrubbery. I wished I had Henry nearby to keep me occupied, but Draco had insisted Whimsy and Pearl look after him. I didn't much like it, but Henry would have been terribly cranky with all the fuss.

It was an extravagant wedding by anyone's definition of the word, except Narcissa Malfoy's. Narcissa Weasley still made me shiver. I don't think I could ever get used to calling her Mrs Weasley. That title would always belong to Molly, at least in my mind.

"Hermione, care to dance?" Fred Weasley bowed with dramatic flair and I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I didn't.

"No, but I will."

The fairy lights twinkling overhead were actual fairies and I wanted to be outraged, but I wasn't. The inlaid marble set in the back garden was extravagant and ridiculous as well, but still, I didn't care. The hired orchestra dutifully playing their shiny instruments was supposed to be impressive, but I was bored.

I hadn't caught sight of Draco in hours. It was his mother's bloody wedding, and where the hell was he? He was probably off with Blaise Zabini imbibing entirely too much firewhiskey in order to deal with the influx of witches and wizards fawning over his mother.

I stifled a laugh when I spied Poppy wincing. Ron was always a terrible dancer. I pitied her toes, but she was good-natured about it all. Magic continued to amaze me, even after all these years. Poppy had given birth less than a fortnight prior and yet she was spinning on the dance floor with Ron.

Their daughter Clover had her father's hair, but I hoped to Merlin she had her mother's brain. They were already discussing their next child and I was glad they were happy. Perhaps, if Poppy was lucky, one of their brood would inherit her waves and sunny disposition.

"Smile Hermione, you're not being tortured," Fred turned me into a particularly quick spin and the dizziness was immediate.

The flashing of the camera bulbs, the raucous laughter, the high-pitched whine of the strings, it was all too much for me to process. My vision blurred and my breaths were a quick staccato. My blood pounded furiously in my ears and I wondered how many moments I had before my knees gave out on me.

"Here, I'm here. Thanks, Fred, I'll take it from here."

His words were strained but they were also garbled. For half a second I wondered if we were underwater. I felt as though I was floating before I realised he was carrying me. I liked it when he took care of me, but I wouldn't ever admit it.

"Where were you?" My hands covered my ears to block out the overpowering sounds so I could focus on his heartbeat and his breaths to regain my sanity.

"Making plans, Granger," Draco kissed the top of my head, but his hands were trembling. "I was also avoiding my mother. She wanted to bloody dance with me. I am not putting on a show for all her pretentious friends."

I peeked through my damp lashes and nearly smiled. Narcissa truly was the belle of her own ball. She looked absolutely magnificent in her ice blue gown. The diamond-crusted bodice was a bit over the top for my tastes, but it suited her. Her hair cascaded down her back in perfectly placed ripples, decorated with diamond-studded clasps.

How she managed to convince Arthur Weasley to wear formal wizarding robes was beyond me. He looked quite dapper and the smile upon his cheeks was infectious. They truly were happy and in the face of all the darkness that had hovered over us for so long, the influx of weddings was a wonderful reprieve.

Harry and Luna's Magical Forest wedding had been unique, to say the least, but it wasn't my sort of affair either. I wanted simple. I didn't want guests gushing. I didn't want to be the centre of attention. I didn't want an uncomfortable fancy ball gown and shoes that pinched my toes. I didn't want the flash of cameras or dancing as though I was on display.

"Is it time to leave yet?" I sagged against Draco's chest and breathed in his masculine scent.

"My mother would…like a word with you," Draco cringed.

"Fuck."

I didn't usually use such harsh language. In fact, I normally frowned upon it, but there are moments when it is absolutely warranted.

"Naughty Granger," Draco snickered as he released me. "I might just have to punish you later."

I probably would have made a delightful quip about the woes of procrastination, if not for the fact Narcissa and Arthur had their way nearby. I didn't want to speak to her. I wasn't in the mood to listen to her empty excuses and faux apologies.

"Hermione," Arthur smiled so broadly it was lovely to see the life in his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered as he grasped me in a quick hug.

I held him longer than necessary, but the comfort was immeasurable. Arthur Weasley was always the sort of wizard that carried the scent of peppermints with a lingering yet subtle overture of musty robes and soap. It was strangely comforting even with the musty smell I associated with him was replaced with an overly masculine fragrance.

"It's nothing, you're family."

Arthur beamed and bobbed his head. He really was quite adorable. I stumbled when he let me go and I couldn't help but laugh. The look on Draco's face when he was caught in a hug was priceless and the flash of a camera bulb soothed my soul. I knew I'd frame the photo if only to document Draco's obvious unease.

"Draco, Hermione," Narcissa's blue eyes shone less brightly when they landed on me, but I appreciated her attempt at civility.

I expected Narcissa to surge forward and embrace Draco, yet she didn't. It might have been due to Draco's stiff posture or perhaps the grip Arthur had Narcissa's forearm, but I still found it strange. There was an undercurrent of emotion I couldn't name and I turned to Draco questioningly.

"Mother, you promised," spoke Draco.

"Yes, I'm aware," Narcissa sighed dramatically. "I simply wasn't aware you would expect such things at my wedding."

"Your gown is lovely," It was absolutely true and I felt uncomfortable remaining silent.

"Of course it is dear, it was designed in France. Merlin knows we haven't the talent here and—" Narcissa winced and I bit my lip when Arthur's grip tightened. "Regardless, I promised my son I would offer my apologies."

Draco remained stiff and completely unyielding beside me. He brushed against me and his arm sidled around my waist with a gentle squeeze. It gave me a solid feeling of solidarity and I couldn't begin to explain how much that meant to me.

The silence grew slowly, until it was damned near deafening, and yet we remained silent. It reminded me of being in the Forest of Dean with Harry and Ron. I shivered as I recalled the eerie silences of the forest after we had placed the Enchantments around our camp. We were silent. We were wordless. We were filled with trepidation and fear and I hated it, much like I hated the reticence suspended in the air above us.

"That wasn't an apology, Mother," Draco spoke through clenched teeth and my side ached from the force of his grip.

"This is ridiculous you realise? As a mother, I have a right—" Narcissa choked on her words as a well-placed elbow lodged in her ribs.

"Cissa, we discussed this."

I decided I quite liked an authoritative Arthur Weasley. It was exceedingly different than the man I had known most of my life. He was stronger. He was embracing himself more than anything and it was beautiful.

"I should not have pressed my personal agenda," Narcissa began unsteadily. "I overstepped and from what I'm told I was unreasonable," she sniffed and that haughty air was there, but I chose to ignore it.

"Thank yo—"

"You just don't understand how difficult it was for me," Narcissa interrupted with a gentle sob. "I believed my only son to be dead and I was well within my rights to be present during my own grandchild's birth and to uphold centuries of Malfoy traditions."

"I've tried to understand, truly I have," I threaded my fingers through the pale hand on my hip and loosened Draco's hold. "I appreciate your effort to express an apology you don't mean. You believe yourself to be correct in your actions and I believe the same of mine. I'd rather not spend the rest of my life at odds with you. We were friends once and perhaps we'll never get it back, but I think we owe it to the ones we love to try."

My voice shook and I wasn't positive I meant everything I said, but no one needed to know that. Draco kissed my temple and Arthur offered a tremulous smile. Narcissa didn't shout at me. It was something. It was better than nothing.

"This is the part where you say words, Mother," Draco's demeanour softened, but I knew she was hurt by his seeming apathy.

"Be kind," I whispered and quickly kissed his cheek.

"Look, we haven't the time for this alright?" Draco ran his fingers through his hair and it was obvious he was agitated. "I've made plans. I've got plans. I can't stand around all night with the horrid music blasting and those camera flashes while I wait for you two to make up, alright? Neither of you is going to ruin this dammit."

Arthur's lips twitched and I knew he knew something. I also knew he wasn't going to tell me or anyone else for that matter. Narcissa's blue eyes narrowed, but she didn't put up a fuss.

"I apologise," She said the words as though they were distasteful on her tongue and they probably were.

"I as well," I replied, but only due to the fact Draco jabbed me with his extraordinarily boney elbow.

Draco clapped his hands together and there was life in his eyes. There was light that wasn't there before. He was no longer flinching away from the dancing couples. He was no longer scowling at the tinkling of glasses. He seemed almost happy.

"Fantastic! Arthur, please don't forget now. Hermione would never forgive me," He stepped forward and the two wizards clasped hands with a secret sort of smile.

"What's happening?"

It was the first and probably the last time Narcissa Malfoy er Weasley and I would ever speak in unison. We shared a startled glance, but our gazes quickly turned to our wizards.

"It's a surprise," Draco removed a small bauble from his pocket and held it out to me.

"I hate surprises. We can't go anywhere. We've got to see to Henry and—"

Arthur waggled his bloody fingers at me and I wanted to rip them off. I wanted to take those fucking fingers and shove them straight up his arse. I wanted to hex Arthur, as well as Draco, and hell, Narcissa too. Perhaps I could get away with some horrid itch they could never reach and bugger it, because Draco snatched my wand.

I desperately searched through the guests for aid, but I couldn't see a single bloody Weasley. Which is ridiculous now that I really think about it. They're Weasleys. They're always about, except apparently when you need one to rescue you from your secretive husband as he drags you through the wards and presses a bauble into your hands.

Gods, I can't begin to explain how much I hate Portkeys. I hated the way you were flung through a veritable vortex and your insides are on the outside and your stomach was left miles away. I can't say I particularly care for Apparition either, but at least I had control over that.

"Malfoy!"

The moment I could take a full breath, I was shouting at him and he cringed. His shoulders folded in and his chin slammed into his chest. His fingers clenched into fists and I felt awful. I hated to see him revert to that broken, broken man he had been and I hated even more so when it was my fault.

"This is a tollhouse," Draco whispered.

I struggled to focus on my surroundings rather than the wizard barely capable of holding himself together. It was warm and cosy, which I liked immediately. The stone was old and weathered and it certainly had character.

"Draco, where are we?"

I wanted to explore. I wanted to run my fingers along the rough stone. I wanted to peek into every niche and see what sorts of hidden treasure lay there. I wanted to know why we were there as well, but I didn't want to push him.

"The in between I suppose you'd call it," He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat so many times I struggled to maintain my composure. "I know you've got an affinity for history. At least, you always had a thirst for knowledge and so I thought perhaps such things would transcend into the Muggle world as well."

I liked to watch Draco speak. Even if he wasn't saying anything important, his lips were mesmerising. He spoke slowly and enunciated each word with such precision, it was addictive. It was inappropriate, but I definitely wanted to tear his well-tailored robes from his broad shoulders and well, I'm sure I don't need to venture into any further details.

"Would you like to show me around?" I smiled and adjusted the décolletage of my gown.

"Granger," Draco smirked, "we're not here for that, well, not only that but later."

My heels clipped on the stone floor as I evaded his long arm stretched toward me. I scurried down the corridor and struggled to outpace him. I heard his long strides behind me, but I felt lighter. I felt free. After all this time, I felt free.

I threw open the door at the end of the corridor and Draco slammed into me when I tripped over the hem of my gown. I gasped and prepared myself for the horrific tumble to the unforgiving stone, but Draco caught me against him and held me tight.

"Draco, what is all this?" I closed my eyes and breathed him in.

I liked the way his chest felt against my back. I liked the feel of his strength in the face of my weaknesses. I hated having weaknesses, but they felt less when he was near. I don't know when I became the sort of woman that relied upon anyone to bolster my sense of self. Perhaps it had happened slowly in the doldrums of Malfoy Manor, but does it really matter?

"I told you I wanted to build a home with you. I told you I wasn't going to live in your tiny little cottage for another six months," Draco sighed into my hair. "I purchased this without consulting you and I'm sure I'm never going to hear the end of it, but it was definitely worth it."

"You promised me history."

"And I shall deliver on such promises, at a later date. It's late already and we've much to do in a short amount of time."

Draco covered my eyes with his warm hands and nudged me further into the bedchamber. I hadn't been able to see much, but I sensed this was part of his surprise. I inhaled deeply and despite the gentle rise of my anxiety, I focused on the feel of Draco behind me.

"Much to do? Malfoy, are you ill? The day is long passed over and—"

"I can't believe you got her here. You realise I owe Zabini twenty galleons now?"

Draco removed his hand from my eyes and there stood Harry Potter. I was thoroughly confused. I mean, here we are at this detached stone home that apparently Malfoy purchased and Harry is standing in the bedchamber.

"What the hell is going on?" I shouted.

"She never used questionable language before you, Malfoy," Harry rolled his eyes and neither of them answered my question.

"I'm here! I'm here!"

Draco and I turned toward the door and Blaise Zabini burst into the definitely crowded bedchamber with his hand over his heart and sweat on his brow. He bent quickly at the waist and braced his hands on his knees. His heavy breathing filled the confused quiet and then he smiled.

"We've got nearly an hour, Zabini," Draco pushed me toward Harry and dragged Blaise away by the ear.

I waited until the bedchamber door closed with an audible click before I turned on Harry. He was prepared to be abused, and his hands were up in his customary defensive position. He backed away from me, but his green eyes sparkled with mirth.

"I told him you hated surprises. It's not my fault he didn't listen. You can't even be angry with me. I told him," Harry stopped retreating and crossed his arms.

"I don't know what's happening. I don't know where we are. I don't know why we're here and it's driving me a bit mad really. What's next? Is Ron going to pop out of the washroom?" I flounced onto the corner of the four-poster bed, absolutely confused and defeated.

"He didn't tell you? Hermione," Harry groaned, "you're on the Scottish side of the historical Coldstream Bridge. This is the bridge house and Malfoy convinced Muggles to allow him to purchase it all by himself. You should be quite proud of him."

I hung on Harry's every word. While he had managed to inform me as to location, he was still sorely lacking as far as the why was concerned. He droned on and on about the history and I cared, I just didn't want to discuss it at that particular time. I watched him move toward the wardrobe and he opened them ever so slowly with a smile on his lips I didn't trust.

"That's a gown, Harry," My heart pounded furiously, but I couldn't tear my eyes off the exquisite creation. "Why is there a gown? That's a wedding ensemble, Harry. You answer me or I'll—"

"You'll what? Malfoy's got your wand," Harry chuckled quite cheekily.

"I've still got my fists."

"Still so violent, love," Draco clucked his tongue and shook his head with faux disapproval, which allowed Harry to escape. "Now, it's time to put on your gown. Potter will escort you when you've finished."

I studied the gown once more and a small lump developed in my throat. It resembled my mother's gown when she married my father. The petite cap sleeves and lace-covered bodice were exquisite. The drop waist and tulle skirts completed the look and I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes.

"Draco…"

"If everything had gone according to plan, it wouldn't have been this rushed," Draco gulped nervously and it was so bloody endearing, I couldn't help but wonder when I had turned into such a sap.

"You know I detest surprises."

"Yeah, I do know that. I hadn't forgotten, but I told you, Granger. I told you that you're marrying me and I know you don't enjoy all the details where actual weddings are concerned—"

"And you thought you'd take it upon yourself to do all of this?" I gestured around the large bedchamber and was actually speechless as I took in the details.

My clothing was carefully hung in the wardrobe behind the gown on display. My shoes were in a perfect line on the small shelf near the bottom. My books, my extensive collection of secondhand, post-War books that I had carefully hand selected after the loss of everything I owned, was there on the obviously expensive bookshelves.

The misshapen sage-green scarf my mum had knitted when I was a child was laid across a dark wood rocking chair in the corner. Pictures of Henry littered nearly every surface and some of them I hadn't seen before. This wasn't just a dwelling Draco had purchased. He had taken the time to create our home.

"My mother was supposed to wed Arthur on Yule, however, the Weasleys were less than supportive of the idea. She's not known for her ability compromise, but she did. I suppose it's a testament to her love for Arthur Weasley, which I still struggle with, but that's my issue."

Draco paced the length of the bedchamber and I could see his lips moving as he counted the steps. He counted the steps no matter where he walked and I doubted he was even aware of it.

"We've come from one wedding to head into another, is that what you're saying?" I fingered the gown lovingly and simply waited for Draco to gather his thoughts.

"The symbolism of marrying at the stroke of midnight was supposed to be romantic I suppose. Zabini said I marked the wall every midnight and my life didn't really start until you. I mean, I was alive, but I was numbed by circumstance and environment. I thought it was aptly fitting that our lives begin with the well wishes of the New Year and—"

"I understand," I sighed.

And I did. I understood completely. His thoughtfulness and the lengths of consideration he had gone to surprised me. I wanted his. I wanted him. I wanted our life.

I stepped into Draco's path and placed my hands on his cheeks. I stared up into the depths of his silvery eyes and smiled. It seemed that was the correct thing to do since he immediately swooped down and captured my lips in a deliciously sweet kiss. I wanted more. I always wanted more and yet he gently extricated himself from my arms and chuckled.

"Meet me in the centre of the bridge," Draco whispered as he stroked my cheek and then he was gone.

I did, in case you were wondering. I met him in the centre of the bridge. I wore the gown. I felt like royalty. It was exactly what I wanted, except I hadn't known. I didn't want to be surrounded by friends and makeshift family. I didn't want courses upon courses of rich fair on gold-rimmed China. I didn't want any of it. I just wanted him. I wanted a marriage. I didn't need a Malfoy wedding to get there.

"He sent me to a Muggle shop," Harry informed me as he led me to the centre of the Coldstream Bridge. "He said it was necessary in order for Henry to remain behind overnight. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have a matronly Muggle speak to you about contraptions that milk women like cattle? I considered murdering Malfoy, but I decided against it. He'd already died once and it didn't stick anyway."

I laughed and I'm fairly certain that was Harry's goal. The moon was high in the night sky and the water reflected it beautifully. I think part of me expected to see his mother and perhaps even Arthur, but that wasn't what was waiting for me.

"How on earth did he convince his mother not to attend?" I breathed as each step brought me closer to my future.

"He bribed her with Henry. First, he suggested that every bride had the right to the sort of wedding she wanted. Cissa disagreed, but once Malfoy asked who would see to Henry while you were gone, she perked up considerably," Harry bumped my shoulder and pointed.

"Just us? Really?" I squinted into the distance as the excitement bubbled within me.

"Just us. You and me, Hermione, until the very end."

Harry held me tight and I was proud of myself for keeping the tears at bay. He placed my hand in Draco's and I smiled. It was perfect, despite the fact Ron wasn't there. I didn't need him there, but I didn't harbour any animosity toward him.

Harry was my family, my brother even, and while Ron would always be counted amongst my dearest friends, our bond had changed and that was for the best. He was happy with Poppy. I was immensely happy with Draco. We had our respective children and our respective lives. I hoped nothing but good things for him and I sincerely hoped he felt the same.

I can't even pretend I remembered the words that Blaise Zabini spoke. I'm still impressed he managed to remain sober and from what I'm told, it was a lovely ceremony. Words were spoken. Rings were exchanged. Blessings were bestowed. The first kiss our new lives was had as fireworks burst in the sky, courtesy of the Joke Shop, of course.

"What do we do now?" I leant into Draco's side as we crossed the bridge to our new home and smiled against his lapel. He bent his head to kiss my forehead and smiled.

"We live."


	37. 37 - The Narrator

_It wasn't sunshine and daisies. It wasn't hearts filled with joy and happiness. It wasn't happily ever after. It wasn't the things that were composed in the fairytales, but that's quite all right._

 _It was night terrors and screaming. It was shaking hands and stuttered breaths. It was soothing tones and soaked bed sheets. It was real and it was love._

 _The ground was still scorched black where the illustrious Malfoy Manor previously stood. Draco Malfoy had allowed the Ministry for Magic to remove certain items of interest for their coffers. Narcissa was remiss to return, yet with the aid of Arthur Weasley, she managed to retrieve a handful of keepsakes._

 _When the outside world, with all its bright lights and deafening resonances, grew to the crescendo to end all crescendos as they weighed down on his shoulders, Draco would return to the grounds of Malfoy Manor. He would stand beneath the tree where he first opened his eyes and spied Hermione weeping. He would take an invigorating breath and centre himself so that he would be capable of returning to his growing family._

 _Ah yes, the growing Malfoys, and grow they did. They all did. The couples that had been forged in darkness had embraced the New World filled with light and promises. The Wizarding community, especially the Ministry of Magic, was thrilled with the influx of children and dutifully placed the ancient Procreation Proclamation back on its dusty shelves, to the great relief of Kingsley Shacklebolt._

 _Ronald and Poppy Weasley continued to reside in the Burrow and were soon filling the rooms with their children and raucous laughter. Their daughter Clover was quite a bossy child and in some respects reminded Ron of Hermione, not that he would have dared to express such thoughts to his wife. The twins, Ivy and Iris respectively, were exceeding incorrigible, yet that was due to the influence of their forever prankster uncles._

 _"Girls, you've got to stop running about the house! You know how much your mother hates it," Ron attempted to be firm in his discipline, complete with a furrowed brow, but his daughters cackled in mirth and continued their antics._

 _"I told them to stop, Da, but they never listen to me," Clover Weasley pursed her plump lips and pouted accordingly._

 _"Yeah well, they don't listen to me either. When is mum going to be back?" Ron wrenched open the window and growled at the owl as it swooped near his head._

 _"Da, Mummy had to go see Aunt Ginny's Healer. She told you a billion times. You listen as well as my sisters," Clover harrumphed loudly and stomped up the stairs as her dark red waves bounced down her back._

 _Ron resisted the urge to crack the seal on the bottle of firewhiskey he'd hidden in the larder. He had promises to keep and it wouldn't do to break them the moment adversity was thrust in his face. He knew his drinking had gotten out of hand once the dust had settled. He had more than a little difficulty accepting the fact the remaining Death Eaters were gone._

 _In the end, Ron had resigned from his Auror position and opened a small Quidditch Shop that specialised in reasonably priced items for underprivileged children. He felt quite good about his contributions to the Wizarding World after that and fervently promised Poppy he'd set away the firewhiskey for good._

 _"I'm back, sorry I'm late!" Poppy Weasley entered the Burrow in a whirlwind of sacks nearly bursting at the seams with goods. "I wound up having tea with Ginny and Kian after my appointment. Then, of course, I had to stop at the market since the bloody gnomes ran off with the last of the potatoes. How's Peony? Has she been good for you?"_

 _She untied her dark blonde wavy hair and offered her husband a brilliant smile. She loved him just as much then, as she had the day she married him. They had their ups and downs as any couple had, but they'd come out all right._

 _"She's still sleeping. You worry too much," Ron caught Poppy around the waist prepared to spin her 'round when she shook her head vigorously._

 _"No, don't. I'd rather not revisit tea if I can help it," Poppy nervously smiled and tucked a wayward strand of blonde behind her ear._

 _"It's confirmed then?" Ron carefully schooled his features to keep his trepidation from his wife._

 _He loved his daughters. He loved all of his daughters. However, the idea of a fifth daughter caused him to cringe, inwardly, of course. Vaguely, he wondered if this was how his mother felt after birthing son after son._

 _"A boy, Ron. We're having a boy."_

 _"Finally!" Ron shouted._

 _He cringed away from the sound of Peony squalling from the safety of her cot. He grasped Poppy and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheeks with a broad smile. He spun her quickly, forgetting her caution in his happiness. He recalled nearly immediately, but it was too late. Poor Ronald Weasley's loafers were soaked through with tea and bits of scone._

* * *

 _While Ronald and Poppy Weasley were cleaning up specks of vomit and celebrating their impending arrival, Ginny and Kian Stone stared at an empty cot with heavy hearts. There were no words to be spoken. There wasn't a need to verbalise their pain. It was palpable._

 _"Do you think if I—"_

 _"No, Ginny. Don't. These sorts of things happen. It doesn't make it better. I'd love to be able to give you a reason. I hate that as a Healer I don't have all the answers. I hate that you're still hurting," Kian Stone embraced his wife and choked back the sadness lodged in his throat._

 _"She should be here," Ginny whimpered. "Do you realise how many children we'd have if they—"_

 _"Hush love, there's no use looking backward, remember?" Kian said with a watery smile and kissed her temple._

 _They'd had a good life. He couldn't complain about any of it. He had met her under dire circumstances and while he couldn't say he was glad she had been a patient, Kian was glad he had met the fiery witch. Despite her angry exterior, she was quite docile and soft-hearted._

 _"I didn't have issues with Molly. I even travelled and it was fine."_

 _Ginny extricated herself from Kian's soothing arms and sat on the white rocking chair nestled in the corner. She wrapped her arms around her expanded midriff and closed her eyes. She cringed against the sound of her daughter crying and shook her head._

 _"I'll see to Molly. Take as much time as you need, love."_

 _For Kian, the losses melded together, but he knew for Ginny they were each a separate entity of pain and it grew harder each time. Ginny blamed herself. She always did. It didn't matter how many times her husband told her otherwise. Deep in her bones, she knew it was her fault._

 _The convalescence period after being hit with Zabini's Sectumsempra had been extensive. The team of Healers had informed her there might be lasting effects. Ginny had never believed the issues would extend to her ability to bear children._

 _She had met Kian during her therapies and he was a sweet, sweet man. He didn't care that she was once the fiancée of The Chosen One. He didn't care about her Hogwarts House or even what side she fought during the War. He claimed such things were in the past and they were to look to the future._

 _He was kind, even when she was cruel. No matter how many times she told him to go, Kian never left. His devotion was unending and Ginny believed if he had attended Hogwarts rather than Beauxbatons, he probably would have been Sorted to Hufflepuff. It didn't bother her in the least, which surprised her almost as much as her love for him._

 _Ginny dutifully removed Harry Potter from the pedestal of her youth and moved forward. It was difficult for her to allow Kian into her life, into her heart, but he was persistent. He sent her owls with chocolate frogs. He sent her flowers. He went out of his way to bring her lunch until finally, she agreed to dinner._

 _"Mummy?" Molly pushed open the door of the nursery with her dark curls bouncing on her head._

 _"Yes, baby?" Ginny offered a tremulous smile and wiped the tears from her eyes._

 _Molly carefully stepped into the nursery and looked around with her wide green eyes. She frowned at the empty cot and regarded her mother carefully. She didn't quite understand, but she knew her mummy was sad._

 _"Baby go bye?" Molly attempted to climb in her mother's lap, but Ginny was quick to stop her._

 _"No, Molly. The baby's fine, see?" Ginny took Molly's hand and gently placed it on her extended abdomen._

 _"He kick me!" Molly shrieked with laughter that was contagious._

 _Ginny's light laughter wafted into the corridor and Kian sighed in relief. He scratched his head and disrupted his dark curls. He hadn't wanted Ginny to step into the empty nursery. He wanted to redecorate it with help from her friends and family before their son was born, but Ginny had always been insistent._

 _"Thank you," Ginny Stone peeked into the corridor and startled her husband with a slow smile._

 _"I knew you needed it, but I can't pretend I understand why."_

 _Kian lifted their four-year-old daughter into his arms and tolerated her sloppy kisses. He offered his arm to Ginny, but she was quick to slap it away. She moved slowly and carefully with her arms cradling her growing child._

 _"This is it, Kian. We've got our daughter after the horrors of our first loss. We're going to have our son and that's it. I don't want to try anymore and I needed to say goodbye. I know it doesn't really make sense, but it was something I needed to do," Ginny grimaced as she descended the staircase with one hand firmly placed on her husband's shoulder._

 _"Love, you do whatever you need to do. Are you sure you're alright?" Kian set Molly down and immediately helped his wife sit on the settee._

 _"I'm not sure. I'm just having a bit of pain, but it's too early isn't it?" Ginny's large eyes widened in immediate fear and she placed her palms on either side of her rather large bulge._

 _"Ginevra Weasley Stone, I'm a bloody Healer. I wouldn't continuously tell you that you could go at any time if it was too fucking early. Crickey woman, you're going to be the death of me!" Kian's deep timbered voiced raised to a level that apparently set his wife to tears. "Dammit."_

 _Ginny tucked her head to her chin and her shoulders quivered until a horrendous groan escaped her lips. She gasped as water trickled between her thighs and soaked the settee. She was caught between fear and excitement until she spotted the blood._

 _"Key. Kian. I can't. You've got to—"_

 _"It's alright. I'm here. Fleur will see to Molly, come on then. It's time to meet our son," Kian smiled so brightly, his green eyes sparkled and all of Ginny's fears were laid to rest._

* * *

 _"Did you get permission?" Luna Potter discarded her dressing gown with aplomb and a wicked smile full of promises._

 _"Luna," Harry whined, "I don't feel the need to ask my mother for permission to name our daughter after her."_

 _His fingers itched to rake through her deliciously long hair. He wanted to embed his teeth in the supple skin of her throat. He wanted to shag her senseless, but his wife had other ideas._

 _"I visited my mother, Harry. It's simple common courtesy." Luna hefted her heavy breasts with her hands and studied her changing figure in the mirror over the sink basin. "I'm quite set on the name Pandora Lily and I can't in good conscience use it without permission."_

 _Harry knew better than to point out the fact their mothers were dead. The last thing he wished was to be engaged in yet another conversation about how the dead had feelings too. It was almost as bad as Nargle hunting, but he would never ever tell her such things. He loved her too much._

 _"If I promise to visit and beg her permission first light tomorrow, can I shag you now?" Harry wasn't against begging._

 _It had been years since their unique wedding and his desire for her hadn't waned. He craved her. He needed her. He adored her and it was more than he ever expected to feel for anyone. There were moments, scant moments when he thought of Ginny._

 _They were so fleeting it was pointless to reflect on them. Harry had cared about her, but it paled in comparison to the adoration he held for his wife. The fact they had James, Lorcan, and Sirius was more than he ever could have imagined and knowing their daughter was growing was enough to make his heart feel full._

 _"You can shag me now anyway, Harry, and perhaps after you return as well," Luna winked saucily and Harry felt his cock twitch in his trousers._

 _"Where are the boys?" Harry breathed and he tore his cotton shirt over his head and dropped his trousers to the floor._

 _"They're at the Burrow," Luna glanced over her shoulder as she bent to turn the taps on the bathing tub, knowing Harry's eyes followed her every move. "The twins are visiting with Ron and with their wives and children, I thought it would afford us a bit of private time before we joined them for dinner."_

 _Harry nodded stupidly. He hadn't the slightest idea what the hell Luna had said. His eyes were locked on her delectable arse and her sinfully intoxicating legs as she carefully stepped into the lightly steaming water. He licked his lips and scrambled to follow her._

 _"You haven't heard a single word I've said and I'm not even surprised. You're quite happy to see me aren't you?" Luna's pale lashes blinked as she stared at Harry nude form._

 _"I'm always happy to see you. I usually just hide it. Can't do that when we're starkers," Harry grasped Luna's waist and groaned into her throat. "Aren't you glad I convinced you this tub was a necessity?"_

 _"Do you suppose butterflies contemplate life?" Luna moaned as Harry brushed against her._

 _"I don't know, love. Why don't we catch some later and ask?"_

 _Harry knew he would have agreed to a trip to an obscure island to hide in the trees completely nude while wearing a crown of flowers as long as he could fuck his wife right then. He sat on the submerged stone seat and gently pulled Luna onto his lap. He gently bit her earlobe as her soapy breasts pressed into his chest._

 _"I think I'd like to be a Magizoologist," Luna crooned as she lowered herself onto Harry's begging cock._

 _"Luna, you can be whatever you bloody desire."_

 _It was his favourite moment. Harry wasn't the sort of wizard that would admit that to anyone, but secretly, it was his favourite moment. It was the anticipation. It was the feel of her body against his and the pounding of her heart. It was her strangled moans and the gentle humming that always accompanied their lovemaking._

 _Harry moved gently as the water slapped against the sides of the tub and splashed onto the floor. Luna's long dirty blonde tresses slapped against her back and her fingernails dug into his shoulders. He watched her lips part and her brows furrow as he held her hips to guide her. It didn't take long for Luna to reach her end, it never did when she was in the midst of carrying the next generation of Potters and for that Harry was grateful as he knew he couldn't hold on much longer._

 _"I don't care!"_

 _"You should care! Your mother accepted the invitation on our behalf!"_

 _"I didn't say we had to fucking go, now did I?"_

 _"Yeah you say that now, but later you'll be whinging about it and I don't have the patience for it!"_

 _Harry groaned into the side of Luna's neck and closed his eyes. He knew he should have closed the Floo. He was so enthralled with his wife, it had completely escaped his attentions, and he was absolutely regretting it._

 _"I believe the Malfoys have arrived," Luna whispered sleepily. "At least we got to finish this time, not that I mind an audience, but I'm not fond of your performance issues when that happens."_

 _"Potter! Put on some fucking clothes and come settle this!"_

 _Draco Malfoy had absolutely no qualms with entering the Potter household without invitation. He figured Potter owed him as the wizard had dealt the blow that nearly ended him. Draco supposed it wasn't fair to hold it over Potter's head after all these years, but life wasn't fair._

 _He rapped on the unforgiving washroom door with tense knuckles and glowered at his wife. Despite the fact he loved his wife, Draco was having difficulty reminding himself of such things. She infuriated him with her stubbornness and her temper. She always had to be right, even when she was unequivocally wrong and he detested the way she refused to admit it._

 _"I want to hear you say it, Granger."_

 _"You'll be waiting a very long time, Malfoy. I'm not saying it. There's no need to say it. You're being ridiculous," Hermione Malfoy tossed her hands in the air and spun on her heel with fire in her golden brown eyes._

 _"Must you?" Harry emerged from the washroom with a fluffy blue towel draped over his hips and water dripping from his dark hair. "Shouldn't you two be home, shagging, like every other childfree couple today? Why are you here? Go away."_

 _Luna didn't bother with a towel or even a dressing gown. She walked from the bedroom with her long blonde hair swinging down her back and a serene smile. Hermione's mouth gaped open in surprise and her eyes immediately narrowed as she observed her husband stare at Luna's naked arse._

 _"You can stop glaring at me, Granger. She's got a love bite on her arse."_

 _"That doesn't mean you should be staring at it!"_

 _"It's right fucking there. Gods, I wish I was blind again," Draco closed his eyes and wiped his palm down his face in frustration._

 _Hermione gasped and even Harry backed away from her. She didn't resort to violence as he expected. She didn't draw her wand and stab it into her frustratingly irritating husband's throat. Instead, she did the worst thing Harry thought she could do. Hermione cried._

 _"Shit. Bollocks. Fuck, Granger, don't cry," Draco cringed in the face of her tears and debated his options._

 _"Hug her, stupid," Harry hissed emphatically as he struggled into his boxers without flashing his bits._

 _Draco's sigh segued into a groan as he pulled his wife into his arms. She was stiff and obviously still angry, but he tried. His hands stroked her back as he nuzzled her hair. Hermione's fingers twisted in the lapel of his grey blazer as her emotions got the best of her._

 _"Hannah shouldn't have sent an invitation second hand. That was unkind," Luna thrust her arms into her surprisingly subdued yellow dress without a second thought._

 _"It doesn't help that my mother has taken the wretched witch under her wing, or the fact she married a Weasley. I can't say I'm particularly fond of an insecure Hermione Granger and I've tried to understand, but fuck," Draco looked to Harry for an answer and only received a wide-eyed shrug in return._

 _"Malfoy," Hermione whispered through her sniffles._

 _"What, love?" Draco bent closer and his blond hair brushed against her cheek._

 _"It's been seven years and you still call me Granger," Hermione's cheeks warmed and she hid her face in his chest._

 _"Seriously? I've always called you Granger," Draco frowned and attempted to pull her from him._

 _Harry waved his arms maniacally while Luna combed her tresses. Harry knew it wasn't the time to agitate the already emotionally compromised witch. He had born the brunt of her anger on more than one occasion and he did not wish a repeat performance._

 _"Hermione," Draco sighed into his wife's soft caramel curls. "We'll compromise, does that sound like something you can do?"_

 _"I require details before I can make an informed decision," Hermione leant back in order to meet Draco's piercing gaze._

 _"Of course you do. We will skip my mother's ridiculous pre-Hogwarts soiree in favour of eating takeaway and those chocolate biscuits you can't live without," Draco smirked as her eyes lit with desire and she licked her lips hungrily. "Tomorrow, we'll see Teddy off with everyone else. Is that agreeable, love?"_

 _"Would you care for tea? It's obvious I shan't be able to sit on Harry's co—"_

 _"Luna!" Harry covered his wife's mouth and barely concealed his laughter. "Where are your boys today?"_

 _Luna grasped the bulge of Harry's denims and squeezed until he released her. She pecked his cheek and flounced from the room without another word. She enjoyed shocking him and it hadn't grown the least bit old over the years. She imagined them old and grey chasing each other through their home, starkers, of course._

 _"Teddy Flooed over ridiculously early and scurried them off to the Burrow. Poppy is definitely going to have her hands full today. I expect my mother and Andromeda will lend a hand, but I'm keeping Hermione to myself."_

 _Harry's lips parted with a small frown but the gentle shake of Draco's head caused him to pause. Apparently, there was something amiss and Harry would rather have tea than ask. He shrugged and gestured toward the stairs._

 _"Ginny had her baby, did you hear?" Harry attempted to converse with the eerily quiet Malfoys as they settled around the table. "She's supposed to be here last tonight. Looks as though we'll finally get to meet her husband."_

 _Hermione settled at the table and sipped tepid tea and nibbled a freshly baked cranberry scone in silence. She wasn't interested in discussing Ginny. She didn't harbour any hard feelings toward the witch, but she couldn't claim they were particularly close either. She shifted on the unforgiving dining chair and winced._

 _"Lovegood, have you got a cushion?"_

 _Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched the way Draco hovered near Hermione. He smirked when Draco helped Hermione stand in order for Luna to shove a pink gingham cushion beneath Hermione. Personally, he thought it was sweet the way Draco draped around his friend. It was obvious there was love there and it warmed his heart._

 _"Luna, where's the bacon?" Harry searched the spread for his favourites and realised all the meats were absent._

 _"I'm off meat, Harry. Our daughter would rather subsist on sweets if she had her way, but I've managed to trick her into quite a few vegetables," Luna tossed her hair over her shoulder sat across from Draco with a sigh._

 _"Is that why those fairy cakes were topped with mashed potatoes?" Harry gasped._

 _Draco kissed Hermione's temple as he listened to the Potter's strange conversation. His fingers stroked her shoulder and his other hand had strayed to her lap. While their fingers were entwined, Draco couldn't resist gently caressing her stomach, which earned him a glare._

 _"Hermione, are you?" Harry choked on the words, but only due to Luna shoving half a scone into his mouth._

 _"Why don't you tell me all about Ginny's new baby," said Hermione at the exact moment her husband snorted._

 _Harry watched his wife fix Hermione a plate with narrowed shrewd eyes. He knew exactly how Luna ate during each of her pregnancies, except the first of course. The identical plates piled with fresh fruit and crumpets gave him pause. It wasn't until Luna poured the golden syrup over both that he knew and was quite angry about it._

 _"Are you fucking stupid?!" Harry pushed away from the table angrily and slammed his fist on the table._

 _"Potter," Draco snarled._

 _"No, you don't get to fucking 'Potter' me. They told her. They told you. You can't do this, Hermione. You can't. You're supposed to be—"_

 _Hermione closed her eyes and blocked out the sounds of Harry shouting and Draco growling. She knew it was a risk, a ridiculous risk, but it couldn't be helped. There were options. There were always options, but she couldn't do it. She didn't want to do it._

 _"It's my life," she finally whispered as she plucked a juicy bit of melon from her plate._

 _"It isn't just your life. What about Henry? What about Phoenix? What about your fucking husband? You're just willing to put it all at risk?" Harry slumped onto his arms and stared at Hermione with devastation in his watery green eyes._

 _"It's done, Harry," Hermione blinked and under different circumstances, she would have flinched away from his anger._

 _"Malfoy," Harry had turned to pleading and it was only then that he saw the fear and pain in Draco's silvery eyes._

 _Draco sighed heavily and kept his wife firmly wedged into his side. He knew she wished nothing more than to flee, but he refused to allow her to travel unescorted. It was one of his many, many rules. He knew he couldn't dissuade her and believed it best to present a united front when he felt anything but._

 _"Hermione's personal Healer believes the risks to be significantly lower than originally presented," Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slightly. "Do you think this was an easy decision, Potter? Do you think we just went and did it on purpose with a fuck you, have a nice day? When has anyone been able to change Hermione's mind once she's set on something?"_

 _"What the fuck do you care?" Harry Potter's anger burst forth and spittle flew from between his lips as his fury got the best of him. "You've already got your heir and a spare. Isn't that what you fucking Purebloods say? She's not your best friend. She's not your sister!"_

 _"She's. My. Wife."_

 _Draco Malfoy slowly pushed away from the table with a calmness he did not possess. He offered his hand to Hermione who knew better than to refuse. She could feel his tremble as she slipped her hand into his and rose to her feet._

 _"I didn't complain when you didn't take me to catch butterflies," Luna began. "I wasn't offended when you said Lysander was a stupid name and suggested Albus in its place. I've born you three sons, Harry Potter and I'm currently housing our daughter. I ignored every moment you roll your eyes when I speak of auras and Nargles, because I love you, but you've gone too far, Harry. You've gone too far." Luna Potter shook her head and Harry felt a pang of guilt as he watched a tear slide down her cheek._

 _"Luna, I—"_

 _"No, I don't want to hear it, not this time. It isn't your life. It isn't your decision. You're not the Chosen One anymore. You don't get to dictate to anyone what sort of life they should lead, not even me," Luna sneered quite nastily and Harry was completely taken aback._

 _Hermione looked up at Draco and he silently groaned. He knew she wouldn't leave, not now. He had absolutely no desire to listen to Potter's sputtering, but he would do it. He would do anything for her, and so, they sat._

 _"When Draco and I were in that dingy cell of Malfoy Manor, I didn't get think we'd get to live the life we have now. I was fairly certain all my dreams of the future were going to end," Hermione toyed with her fingers in her lap and avoided Harry's blazing glare. "I had made peace with it, until Henry. Gods, I was terrified and then I was free, but I wasn't. My heart was still in that cell and then my best friend had to come tell me that he killed the love of my life for the greater good and I hated you. I didn't want to look at you, but I did anyway because you're my family."_

 _"You're my family too and—"_

 _"I'm not finished," Hermione hissed._

 _"Love," Draco's arm found its way around her shoulders and Harry watched the way they leant into each other._

 _"Harry's a bit of a bastard, did you know that?" Luna pointedly ignored her husband in favour of slathering her toast with lemon curd. "Do you think he asked me if I wanted to live here? He didn't. He just decided it would be best. I wanted to live in a cottage surrounded by nasturtium near the wood, but not Harry! I thought it would be loads of fun to have Blaise tossing flowers down the aisle, but not Harry! I've come to realise, I'm not living the life I'd like to lead. I want to take adventures, but Harry's had enough of that. Whatever Harry wants, he gets you realise? Arguing with him is pointless, he doesn't much listen anyway. I'm sure the highly esteemed Hermione Granger or rather Malfoy hasn't the ability to make a decision without Harry's approval."_

 _"I didn't know Lovegood had that many words in her repertoire," Draco's ridiculous stage whisper broke the tension and they all managed a small smile._

 _The roar of the Floo interrupted whatever sputtering was going to escape Harry's lips and for that, Hermione was grateful. She didn't want to argue with him, or with anyone for that matter. She'd had her fill. She'd held off on telling Draco about her condition and their relationship was still slightly fractured by the mistrust. She couldn't bear any more disagreements._

 _"Oi! Potters! Malfoys! I know you bastards are here somewhere! No, no come on then Annalisa, don't worry so much. They're not going to be rude to you. They'll love you, I swear it."_

 _Blaise Zabini dragged his nervous wife through the corridors of Grimmauld Place with the widest smile to ever grace his face. It was better than the end of the War and Yule all in one. He was absolutely giddy with excitement and he couldn't wait to introduce her to his mates._

 _Technically, he didn't consider Harry Potter a mate, but that was simple semantics, to which Annalisa could attest. He had stopped strangers in Diagon Alley to introduce his wife the moment they returned to England. She had nodded and smiled as was her gentle way, but she was far from comfortable with her husband's newfound exuberant nature._

 _"There you are! Lookit! I got married!" Blaise burst into the kitchen and pushed his pretty sun-kissed wife forward._

 _"It's about bloody time mate, Renata is nearly five, yeah?" Draco winked and squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "Lovely to see you, Annalisa."_

 _Annalisa Zabini sat at the end of the table as from her vantage point, it looked as though there was a bit of tension between the other couples. She plucked the sleeves of her white cardigan and smoothed the bright orange flowers on her white dress silently. It was easier to remain quiet when Blaise was in one of his boisterous moods._

 _"She is four, thank you very much," Blaise huffed and poured himself a cup of tea. "Looks serious in here. Don't much like that. Tell Uncle Blaise what the issue is."_

 _"Hermione's pregnant," Harry snapped._

 _Blaise sat heavily beside Luna and his hand shook as he attempted to bring his teacup to his lips. He spilt more than he managed to sip and finally gave up. He looked to Hermione with wide deep brown eyes and waited._

 _"I'm not going to tell you what to do. That's not the sort of friendship we forged. When Malfoy owled me, I nearly went mad trying to get a fucking Portkey. Annalisa can attest to that," Blaise blindly reached for his wife's hand and she stroked his forearm. "The Healers were going mad and Malfoy was losing his fucking mind. Now, I know that you and Phoenix came out alright and sure, we joke about heir and a spare and all that rot, but I don't think Malfoy could make it if you didn't."_

 _"Annalisa, I'm so very glad to see you. It's been much too long. I do hope you've brought Renata to visit as I'm sure the boys would enjoy her company," Hermione continued to ignore Harry in favour of addressing the brunette beauty Blaise had finally married._

 _"Yes, we bring her," Annalisa replied in her soft-spoken broken English. "We leave her, how you say, giocare?"_

 _"Play, love. We left Renata with the Weasleys. It was a fucking madhouse with all those children running about. If one hair is harmed on my daughter's head, I'm liable to kill him," Blaise kissed his wife's hand and returned his attentions to the Malfoys._

 _There was something in the air that caused Harry's anger to ebb. It might have been the way Zabini searched Hermione's eyes for an answer he desperately craved as well. It might have been the feel of Luna's hand gently stroking his thigh despite her ire. It might have been the worry etched in Draco Malfoy's forehead and the way the blond wizard's hand never strayed from Hermione's abdomen. It could have been anything really, but Harry decided it was time to place his feelings aside and listen._

 _"He's ready now, Hermione," Luna's nose crinkled in Hermione's direction and she offered a small nod._

 _"Draco asked me to end it. I considered it, I did. I also withheld the information longer than I should have in hopes it would sway his opinion," Hermione smirked and Harry didn't like that one bit. "It didn't, but that's no surprise really. He dragged me off to some of the best Healers in Europe until he was satisfied. The risks are less than expected. With Phoenix, his position and the placenta position made everything worse really. I'm sure you're not interested in the specifics and I don't feel as though I'm required to share them. I appreciate your love for me. I appreciate your worry, but I'm doing this with or without your support," Hermione laid her head on Draco's shoulder and Harry watched them breathe as one._

 _"We've actually consulted with Kian Stone quite a few times. He's quite knowledgeable and considering the issues he and Ginny had it made sense," Draco rubbed his cheek on the top of Hermione's head and inhaled against her curls for a moment. "We didn't meet them, but from the sounds of it, their children are doing well. They're very private and we didn't wish to pry. I'm sure you understand."_

 _"Wait, children? I thought they only had Molly and the new babe?" Harry scratched his head in sudden confusion that wasn't helped by Luna's wandering hand._

 _"Harry! Does it matter? They have three children now. They asked us not to speak about him. He's delicate and spent loads of time in hospital, alright? Are you happy now?" Hermione tossed her hands up in exasperation. "We'll see them tomorrow I suppose, if Kian can convince Ginny."_

 _"You were just trying to change the bloody subject! I can't believe it. You were just hoarding all this information and were planning on just—" Harry sputtered ridiculously and every last remaining trace of tension dissipated as they dissolved into laughter._

 _"You're so stupid," Hermione sniffed with a smile. "Anyway, this one's a girl. They're monitoring me closely and they've decided to take her when it's time rather than allow things to progress naturally. I'm not particularly happy about that, but it was Draco's one irrevocable condition and I can't argue with it."_

 _"You're fine. The baby's fine. Everything's fine. Can we put all this depressing shit to rest now?" Blaise reached into the pocket of his black waistcoat and waggled his silver flask with glee._

* * *

 _Unfortunately, the sun was shining brightly as it peeked through the clouds. It wasn't cold or dismal or even remotely dreary. The air was crisp with the gentle tease of coming fall._

 _The Burrow was filled with the sounds of giggling children trying their damnedest to remain quiet. They knew it was too early to wake the surly adults, but they couldn't help it. It was always terribly exciting to see the Hogwarts Express and their heads couldn't help but be filled with dreams of the day they to would venture to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _"I go next," James Potter boasted._

 _His mussed dark waves stuck up in nearly every direction and Molly Stone was the first to laugh. James didn't know the little brunette, but he decided he didn't like her. She was the reason they were all laughing at him._

 _"I know the order of all of us, I bet you don't," Clover Weasley crossed her arms and glowered at James crossly._

 _"You sound like Aunt Hermione. Uncle Ron says that no one likes a know it all. I bet you haven't any friends at all," James snorted and threw himself back onto his makeshift bed on the floor._

 _"Thas no nice," Lucy Weasley piped up from beside her older brother Fred and threw her stuffed owl at James._

 _"She's right," Frank Longbottom piped up._

 _He shoved his dark hair from his forehead and struggled to his feet. He was a well-fed little boy and was often scorned, but he had the heart of his father. His mother often told him stories of his father's bravery and it helped Frank to burst from his cocoon of silences. He wore the scar on his forehead as a badge of honour and was quite proud to say his Uncle Harry had one as well._

 _"Oh shut up, Scarboy," James sneered._

 _"Your dad said not to call me that. He said it's mean and my mum says that's why you'll be Sorted to Slytherin," Frank snarled._

 _James Potter clenched his fists. There was nothing he wished more than to pummel Frank Longbottom, but he had promised his mum he would behave. He bit his tongue until it bled and ignored the boy until Frank sat down._

 _"I don't think we've ever all been together like this," Clover concentrated on each and every face peeking up at her just before she scratched her nose._

 _"Course not, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Kian hardly ever come for a visit. Dad says it's cos they've got the new baby and all," James offered as he stared at the ceiling._

 _"Two baby," Molly crinkled her nose at James and sidled closer to Ivy and Iris._

 _"I've no idea what she's trying to say," Clover sniffed quite haughtily._

 _"Oh, who cares? Why don't you impress us all with your vast knowledge, Clover?" James enjoyed teasing his snooty cousin and it showed._

 _Ron and Poppy sat on the top step smiling as they eavesdropped on the children. They hoped it wouldn't turn into yet another brawl. It hadn't helped matters that Fred and George added to the disharmony._

 _"Are they up yet?" Astoria Weasley knelt beside Poppy and attempted to peek down the stairs with Fred coming up behind her._

 _Ron grunted as was his nature when faced with Slytherins. Despite all the years that had passed, he still wasn't comfortable with them. He had been shocked into silence when Fred had wandered home with a pretty little curly headed blonde on his arm. Their relationship had been strained ever since, not that Fred cared._

 _"They're having a mini-row about who goes to Hogwarts first," Poppy hissed._

 _"That's easy enough," George interjected and caused them all to jump._

 _"Does it matter? They're all going to go eventually," Hannah Weasley offered from the safety of her husband's arms._

 _Ron's blue eyes narrowed dangerously and his upper lip twitched in disdain. He'd never forgiven Hannah for her interference in Hermione and Draco's relationship. Poppy had attempted to explain it to him time and time again, but Ron didn't care how much Hannah was hurting at the time. The barmy witch still managed to needle the Malfoys and Ron could barely stand to be in the same room with her._

 _"I asked you to meet us at King's Cross," Ron grumbled at his older brother George as the tips of his ears turned red._

 _"You're never going to get over it, are you?" George sighed and jerked his head toward the empty bedroom at the end of the corridor. He waited until Hannah was gone before he turned to his youngest brother. "It's different now, Ron."_

 _"It isn't, that's the thing. If she had stopped going on and on about him, I might have been alright with it. Instead, she befriended Cissa and practically ruined Hermione's marriage because she couldn't stop gossiping about them."_

 _"You're being dramatic," Fred interjected._

 _"Am I? I'm fairly certain I'm not. In fact, Cissa organised all the kids to come here, and bloody Hannah took it upon herself to invite Hermione. It wasn't her place to do that and it upset Hermione so much, she declined the invitation here for breakfast. Dad is sposed to bring Henry and Phoenix to King's Cross rather than us. Think about that, yeah?" Ron angrily stomped down the stairs and didn't even manage to crack a smile when the children hid beneath their blankies._

 _Poppy sighed and hoped the baby wouldn't wake. She recalled when the sounds of the Burrow were only filled with Ron's eating habits and the dishes washing themselves. She missed those days as much as she didn't._

 _The joy on Ron's face when she told him about their son was burned into her memory. Every moment they'd spent together was carefully kept recorded in her picturesque memory. When she was exasperated with him, angry with him, adored him, hated him, loved him, Poppy relied on those memories to carry her through._

 _"Perhaps we should go."_

 _The whispered voice drew Poppy back to the present and she shook her head. She heaved herself to her feet and wished she had the physique of her youth. She wasn't old by any means, but she felt it, in her bones._

 _"Stay. Ron is being Ron, I'll just feed him a full English and it'll be fine. It's a day for family and you're all family."_

 _Poppy made her way down the steps and mentally counted off the gaggle of children in her midst. Teddy. James. Frank. Henry. Clover. Sirius. Lorcan. Ivy and Iris. George. Phoenix. Fred. Molly. Renata. Peony. Lucy. Roxanne. Hope. Sage._

 _"Poppy! I can't think with all these bloody tots!" Ron's face was flushed and his eyes wide with terror as the youngest of the bunch squealed with delight._

 _"Alright then!" Poppy clapped her hands loudly and suddenly all was quiet. "Come on, it's a beautiful day. Let's have brekkie in the garden."_

 _"How does she do that?" Astoria whispered as her crystal blue eyes lost sight of George and Lucy amidst the cousins._

 _"I don't know, but she reminds me of my mum," Fred sighed happily._

 _It wasn't long after that the children were properly dressed and making quite the mess with their breakfast. The Weasleys were never quite so thankful for magic as they were that morning. Ron even managed to pass Hannah the crumpets without an ugly sneer. It was going to be a beautiful day._

 _Arthur and Narcissa arrived just after the mess was cleaned to collect the incorrigible Henry, whose resemblance to Draco was startling and his equally quiet brother Phoenix who was a perfect meld of his parents. They placed the dutiful kisses on their grandchildren's heads and waved a cordial hello and goodbye without dallying. They were anxious to leave the bustle behind before they ventured to King's Cross._

 _As for Harry, he woke on the sofa with a wicked crick in his neck that his wife decided was exactly what he deserved. He took his punishment silently as was in his best interest. Harry skipped breakfast, showered, dressed, and kissed Luna goodbye without a word as to his destination._

 _Harry Potter Apparated to Godric's Hollow with a lump in his throat and a sting to his eyes. As much as he missed the idea of his parents, he didn't enjoy visiting their final resting place. There was something so fucking final about it, which is a stupid thought, but Harry already knew that._

 _He paused near the cemetery where his parents laid and took a deep breath. He could do this. He would do anything for Luna. If she wanted him to stand in the cemetery of Godric's Hollow and ask his mother for permission, he would do it. Even if he felt like an idiot. Even if passersby were looking at him oddly._

 _Harry considered lying about it, but Luna had this second sort of sense or something. She always bloody knew when he was telling tales. He wasn't willing to risk it, not with her, not with this. And with that thought fresh in his mind, Harry Potter spoke. The words flowed forth as if she were before him and when he was done, he felt better about everything._

 _He Apparated to King's Cross, with a clear conscience and a fullness to his heart. Of course, that was completely obliterated upon spying the ridiculously large gathering of his family. He was nearly overrun by the squeals and almost knocked off his feet from the force of the hugs in all directions._

 _"Harry's here," Luna smiled happily._

 _"Thank you, Luna. I never would have worked that out on my own," Ginny Stone rolled her eyes heavenward and bit her tongue._

 _"Good thing I provided the information then, isn't it?" Luna patted Ginny's arm and manoeuvred her way through the throng of excited children._

 _"I asked her," said Harry, the moment Luna was at his side. "I think it'll be fine."_

 _Harry's heart nearly burst when Luna beamed at him. She grabbed his hand and forced him to feel their daughter tumble about. He was fairly certain this is exactly what happy felt like._

 _"Ron! The least you could do is keep a firm hand on the twins. I've got Peony and Sage, but Clover has wandered off again," Poppy shouted._

 _"She's just there with Ginny. Stop shouting at me," Ron waved his hand in irritation and continued his amicable conversation with Blaise Zabini._

 _Blaise kept his eyes on Annalisa and Renata, but it wasn't the worst thing in the world to listen to Ron Weasley ramble. It was harmless and it made his wife happy. He liked it when she was happy. When she was happy she didn't mind the firewhiskey he drank and Blaise would always love firewhiskey._

 _"Ginny!" Hermione Malfoy weaved through the children with a bright smile and a hand on her protruding stomach._

 _"Hermione, thank Merlin," Ginny sighed heavily in relief and patted the bottom of her babe in arms._

 _"Is this Hope?" Hermione's eyes twinkled with delight until Ginny shook her head._

 _"No, this is my son. This is Hermes," Ginny carefully pulled pack the soft woven blanket covering the baby's head with held breaths. "We weren't sure he would make it. He's a bit delicate. Hope was hidden behind him for so long, we didn't even know she was there."_

 _"You named your son Hermes? Really Gin?" Hermione gently stroked Hermes dark hair._

 _"Well, I couldn't very well name him Percy, could you imagine? He'd be a mockery, at least Hermes is associated with good luck, and as it was Percy's middle name. It's a nod in that direction." Ginny waved to Kian who had an active Hope in his arms while Molly screeched with Lorcan._

 _"He's beautiful, Gin. I'm glad he's alright. Gods, twins," Hermione shook her head, "better you than me. Did Kian tell you we're having a girl?" Hermione itched to hold Hermes, but she didn't ask._

 _"Oh, a little girl! You're going to love it and hate it, trust me. Have you got a name?" Ginny's arm waved over her head at Teddy Lupin as he stood on the steps of the Hogwart's Express._

 _"Stella. Don't look at me like that. You've got your nod to Percy and I've got my nod toward the constellations my husband is obsessed with. This'll be our last one I wager."_

 _"Did you think our lives would turn out like this? I'm not unhappy mind you, it's just nothing that I ever imagined." Ginny held her son just a bit tighter, but her radiance shown through._

 _"No, it's nothing like I thought it would be. It's better," Hermione leant down and kissed the top of Hermes' baby fresh head and caught Ginny in a one-armed hug._

 _She didn't like to leave Draco to his own devices for long. It made him exceedingly ill at ease. Hermione pretended she didn't mind the boisterous crowds and the shrieking children in the echoes of Platform 9 ¾, but it weighed heavily on her. She much preferred the silences of their toll house to the cacophony of anywhere else._

 _Draco Malfoy stood stiffly beside his wife, still uncomfortable with large crowds and dark corners. His tension barely ebbed when Hermione returned to his side and he wondered how much longer he'd be forced to socialise. He gazed over the heads of the sparse students boarding the train, feeling a sense of relief upon spying his sons. He was fairly certain there were more Weasleys than students, but he knew better than to voice such things._

 _"Draco, look there, it's Hannah and Neville's son." Hermione breathed softly, twining her fingers through his._

 _Draco glanced over at the dark haired boy, curious. The boy smiled shyly at his mother, offering a small wave as he turned toward the train. He spun toward the Malfoys, excitement in his eyes, causing Draco to sigh. Hermione looked up at her husband with a knowing smirk painted on her lips._

 _"Go on then, say it," She said as she rolled her eyes with a laugh._

 _Draco bent near Hermione's ear and breathed deeply. His grey eyes roved over the gaggle of children and he finally resigned himself to one simple fact. This was his family. Of course, it didn't stop the words from spilling forth nor did it quell the temptation of his wife's lips._

 _"Lovely, just what the world needs, another boy…with a scar."_


End file.
